Kings and Queens
by So Much Tea
Summary: Emma Swan is struggling as an actress. All seems lost until she manages to swing a spot on Kings and Queens, the most popular Medieval TV Show of all time. But here's the catch: Emma hates being in love, and acting it is proving more tricky than she first thought. Her whole world is about to change, especially working alongside her new and mysterious co-star Killian Jones.
1. Chapter 1

**Before I kick this off, I have a few notes! First of all, this is going to be a super multi-chapter fanfiction (I am very excited), and I've written it for the Captain Swan Big Bang. It was SO fun to write. Really really fun. Secondly, I have a few people to thank. My beta, electictoes and my cheerleader holdmecloseandfast. This people are amazing and I couldn't have done it without them. Last but not least, lucythemarauder, who has created amazing and beautiful artwork for this fic. So check it out!**

 **I'll be posting this once a week, on Mondays, so look out for me! And I really, really hope you like it. Let me know what you think! Happy reading!**

* * *

The sun is bright. It streams through the window and bounces off the crystal light, casting a kaleidoscope of colours around the room.

Emma Swan sits at her computer, fanning herself with an old magazine. The August heat is unbearable, even though she's opened every window in her house. The gentle breeze wafting through the rooms does nothing to soothe her burning skin.

She watches rainbows grow and shrink as the crystal lampshade spins in the breeze. The patterns are pretty against her wooden floor, but she's not really appreciating them as much as she normally would. Instead, she sits with her chin resting on the heel of her hand, eyes glazed over as the other hand fans mechanically.

"Mom," comes a rough voice from the sofa. When she doesn't answer, it comes again. " _Mom."_

"Huh?" Emma asks, blinking out her daze.

"Earth to Mom."

Slowly, everything in the room comes back into focus. She casts her gaze over to the owner of the voice. Henry sits on the sofa, his legs pulled up around him. A book is draped over the arm of the chair, and Emma can _just_ make out what it is. Fairytales. Go figure.

"I said, have you found anything yet?" He asks, folding over the corner of his page.

"Nope," she answers with a sigh.

He gives her a confident smile. "You will. I believe in you."

"I sure hope you're right, kid."

The thing is, Emma's been on the job hunt for _months_ now and nothing's come up. But it's not from lack of trying. Day in, day out, she scrolls through endless audition websites, hoping she'll find one that suits her. She applies for at least five a day, but is always met with a snotty letter, something along the lines of, "We are sincerely sorry and we wish you luck with future projects." Well, _screw them._

She has called countless agencies, producers, shows and movies but nothing has ever come out of it. She always knew getting into the acting business was going to be tough (hell, every actor and actress has said at one point they weren't sure they were going to make it) but she didn't anticipate it being _this_ tough.

A few years ago she managed to get a role on one of those soaps operas. She only had fifteen minutes of screentime, but she was paid well enough for it. After that, she convinced herself she'd made it. Any role was within her grasp.

How mistaken she was.

Before Henry, she worked a bar job. The hours were sparse, but it paid the bills. She got by. After Henry came back into her life, she knew she'd have to step up her game, and so she worked two bar jobs and a shop on Saturday. That was until a few weeks ago, when one bar and the shop told her they had too much staff, and she had to go.

Now, Emma's struggling to put food on the table, let alone pay the bills. She _needs_ another job and fast. She needs an acting job. One that pays heap loads of money.

"Mom, you're worrying."

Emma looks over to see Henry giving her one of _those_ looks. She sighs. "I'll be fine." The truth is, she's wondering how she can make thirty dollars stretch the rest of the week.

She'd ask Regina for money, but she _can't._ She's too proud for that. Plus, she's not even sure Regina would lend her the money. After all, they haven't always seen eye-to-eye. It's only recently they've started getting on, and it's more to do with their mutual love of Henry than anything.

"Mom, your phone's vibrating."

Emma gives a start. Her phone is humming against the table, loud and clear. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed it.

When she checks the caller ID, her eyes widen. Quickly, she brings it up to her ear, biting her lip. " _David_?"

"That's right, it's me!" he announces. "How're you?"

"I'm… shocked to tell you the truth." She hasn't heard from him in weeks. No, not weeks. _Months_.

"I know, I know."

Suddenly, she feels very hot, almost feverish. "Where the _hell_ have you been?"

"Researching," he tells her. She can't make out whether his voice is sincere or not. "And trust me, you're gonna _love_ what I've found."

David's been her agent for years. He comes and goes, as he has a bunch of other clients he needs to take care of. Some are even close to fame. Take Ruby, for one. With a face and legs like hers, she's onto bigger and better things.

Emma's eyes flash over to Henry, who looks back with a curious expression. To David, she says, "Okay. I'll bite."

"I've found you an audition."

Silence envelopes the line as she lets this sink in. "Hang on. _What_?" He hasn't found her an audition in about a year. Instead, he's been giving her endless excuses why not. She wonders whether he's been looking at all.

"And let me tell you, it's going to be big."

She sits up straight, hungry for more. "Big? What? What's the audition?"

"Ever heard of The Vampire Diaries?"

"Yeah…?" Her heart picks up, beating like a bird's wings. The Vampire Diaries _is_ big. She's never seen it herself, but people talk about it. But he hasn't… he can't have…

"Well, it's not that."

Her heart sinks. "Okay?"

"Ever heard of Merlin?"

She feels that familiar adrenaline. "Yeah?"

"It's not that either."

" _Seriously_?"

What's his deal? At times like these, Emma debates on getting a new agent, a _better_ agent, who'll actually manage to swing her a few auditions. Maybe she'll even get an agent who tells her how she needs to adapt for a role, instead of telling her she won't suit any auditions he's found.

"It's- wait for it…"

"David. Just tell me." She's sick of waiting around, and sick of disappointment.

"It's…" He takes a breath long enough for Emma to roll her eyes. "Kings and Queens."

A silence. She sits, unable to believe it. Her face pales. She's heard of Kings and Queens. _Everyone's_ heard of Kings and Queens. Everyone at the bar talks about it, but Emma usually just blocks them out. She's never seen it, even though it's Henry's favourite show.

Henry.

He's watching her intently, his book abandoned. He can't have worked out what show her audition is for, otherwise he'd have a very different reaction. She's not sure what his reaction would be, but she knows it would make her smile.

"...Emma?"

" _Seriously?"_ she manages to choke out.

"Seriously." She can practically _hear_ his grin.

Suddenly, she feels all shaky, with shock or longing, she does not know. It takes her a moment to calm herself, but when when she does, there's a slight tremor to her voice.

"Be real, David. I am _never_ going to get that."

"As my wife would say, we must always have hope." There's a pause, slightly nervous. "So, what do you say? Want to give it a shot?"

Once again, she's drawn to Henry. There's an optimistic shine in those young eyes. She thinks about all the things she could give him if this works out. Maybe even that expensive camera he's wanted for the past year.

She sighs, trying to seen somewhat casual. "Sure. Why not?"

"Brilliant. I've emailed you the script."

"... Already?" She leans forward in her chair. "You sneaky bastard."

"You'll thank me for it later. The script's _amazing_." He pauses, and Emma assumes he's grinning. _Again._ "Anyway, I've got to go. Mary Margaret and I have a date night. Send me a text and let me know what you think, yeah?"

"Sure thing." She's already logging onto her email. "Speak to you later, David."

"Alright, bye."

There's a beep as the line disconnects. She slowly places her phone back down beside her, and then turns to Henry. He watches her with raised eyebrows. Emma's lost for words. She opens her mouth and closes it, shaking her head. Did that really just happen? Has she really got an audition for one of the top TV shows in the whole _world_?

"Mom…?" Henry asks, voice unsure.

"It's Kings and Queens," she says, weakly.

"What?"

"I have an audition for Kings and Queens."

They both sit there, limp and ghost white, mirror images of each other. His eyebrows knit together, as the news sinks in. Then, his face lights up into the widest smile she has ever seen.

"You're _kidding?"_

All she can do is shake her head.

Within moments, he's closing the distance between them. He wraps his arms around her, in the tightest hug she's ever received. She hugs him back. Everything is a whirl of hair against hair and cheeks against cheeks, and breathless excitement. When they pull back, they are both smiling.

"Mom, that's amazing."

"Would you mind staying at Regina's tonight?" she asks, with a smile. "I have a script to learn.

* * *

Usually reading a script can take some time, but Emma manages to read through it in a night, unable to put it down for even a second. She reads it while eating, while running a bath, and even while she's making endless amounts of coffee to keep her awake so she can re-read it. She was not expecting it to be so good. David was right.

She always knew the show was set way back in the past, in a made up land of kings and queens and servants, but she didn't really have a clue about anything else. After reading the script, she wishes she watched it with Henry when it was on television.

In the email, David mentioned who he secured the audition for: Rose. From what she's worked out, Rose doesn't have much luck. Her village has been burnt to the ground by a ruthless ruler. Most of her friends and family are dead. The only family she has is her mother, who is dragged to court (with Rose) to be a healer. Despite the world's cruelty, Rose seems to be a strong, independent woman. Like Emma herself, she's not allowed her misfortunes to affect her character.

Emma's already intrigued. Fairytale-ish things have always interested her from when she was little, but as she got older she realised fairytales weren't real. There aren't any fairy godmothers or magic to protect people. She learned that the hard way.

A fleeting smile crosses her face as she texts David.

 **It's good. I like it. Thank you :)**

He replies back within a few minutes.

 **Check ur email ;)**

She rushes to her computer. He's sent her all the audition information, including times and dates. The audition is only a week away. That should give her enough time to learn some lines and perfect her performance.

And she has a good feeling, she really does. There's something in her gut, telling her everything is going to be alright. She hopes to God her instincts are correct.

* * *

 **One Week Later**

As far as audition days go, this has been the worst one so far. First, she woke up late and barely had time for a shower, let alone breakfast. She didn't even bother to do her usual 'shove toast in her mouth and leave' ritual.

Emma sits in her yellow bug, close to tears. She's turning the ignition over and over, but the car just growls and dies. Her palm smacks hard against the dashboard. The abuse doesn't help, of course it doesn't, but neither do kind words and prayers. She hopes this is only temporary. God knows she can't afford repairs at the moment.

To her utter dismay, she's forced to abandon her usually trusty machine. She manages to catch a bus, though barely. She's forced to fork out a hell of a lot of money to cover the extortionate expenses. More money than she can afford for a smelly, rusty ride. By the time the bus gets to her stop, she's already ten minutes late.

She runs to the building. It's so tall, towering over her as she catches her breath. Half of it is lost in maze of scaffolding and wooden planks. They must be renovating.

She checks her watch, puffing out air. Fifteen minutes late. She has to get a move on _now._

There's a line at the reception, snaking around the corridor. Emma pushes past all manners of people and marches to the front of the queue, ignoring everyone's sudden cries of outrage.

"Where's room six eight three?" she demands to a plump woman at the desk, who's all hot and bothered, greying hair sticking to a shiny forehead.

"Were you next in line?"

Emma grits her teeth. "Just tell me where the room is."

Something in Emma's voice must intimidate her, because the woman is quick is answer. "Floor six. On the left."

"Thank you."

The room is up _five_ flights of stairs and the lift is out of order. Emma curses every God and every religion as she trudges up them, clutching the stitch in her side. By the time she reaches the door, her hair resembles a haystack.

She fixes it as best as she can, combing and flattening it with her fingers. When she's ready, she sucks in a deep breath and knocks on the door. There's a pause. She waits. And then: "Come in!"

She enters.

The room is only small, and very white. A long table is positioned in front of her, leaving enough space for the auditionees to act. Along the table sits five people, more than Emma is used to. They all study her with narrowed eyes, apart from the woman in the middle, who wears a warm smile. A camera blinks at her from behind the table. She swallows a lump in her throat and takes a few steps forward.

"Hi there," the woman with the warm smile greets. Emma notes the thick, Australian accent. "What's your name?"

"Uh, Emma. Emma Swan," she says. "Sorry I'm late. I had car troubles. I had to get the bus."

The woman's smile remains unfaltering. "It's okay. It happens to the best of us."

Emma's not quite sure she can trust this. Being late is bad enough to cost the actor the audition. She's going to have to do one hell of a performance to make up for.

"I'm Belle," she continues. "And I'm head writer and one of the producers. Have you prepared an audition for today?"

"Yeah." What idiot wouldn't? "One minute." She fumbles awkwardly around in her bag for the script and pulls it out. Her hands are shaking, but she doesn't drop it as she flicks through pages. At last, she finds what she wants. "So I really like all the extracts you asked me to pick from, but I thought an extract from scene eight. Is that okay?"

"That's fine," Belle says. Another warming smile. "Whenever you're ready, Emma."

Face burning under all the eyes on her, Emma places the script on the table, closed. Another way to make sure an audition goes badly is to not learn the script off by heart. She was taught that in drama school.

Belle is busy flicking through her own script. Squiggles in every colour pen litter the pages. When she finds the scene, she looks up at Emma and offers her another smile.

Emma closes her eyes for a moment to get into character.

When she opens her eyes again, she's Rose. Her back straightens, her shoulders are relaxed. Not tense, like they were five minutes ago. She clasps her hands in front of her, keeping her head down in a way that she hopes represents the status of the character.

Belle starts reading as another character; another servant. "You don't like it here?" she asks.

Emma keeps her head down, her shoulders lifting and then falling in a sigh. "I like it here."

"That doesn't sound like someone who likes it here..."

"I'll have to get used to it." Her eyes raise to Belle's.

"But your home-"

"My home was destroyed," she says softly. She lowers her eyes again. "There's nothing to go back to. Not now."

The scene goes on much like that. It ends with a friendship formed between Rose and the other servant, Toby.

When Emma finishes, she's proud of herself. It's a hard character to portray, but she thinks she's done alright, especially when Belle gives her another one of those smiles and says, "That was beautifully acted."

She's just starting to relax a little, when there's another voice Emma doesn't recognise. "I believe you mumbled over your words, Miss Swan."

Her head snaps over to him. He's a small, thin man, with chin-length, greying hair. He sits next to Belle, completely composed.. There's something intimidating in his eyes, but Emma looks right in them. Especially since she knows she _didn't_ mumble over her words.

"Excuse me?" she says. There's a voice screaming inside her head, telling her to shut up _now_.

"I think you heard me perfectly well." He speaks through a strange sort of grimace.

Usually, Emma wouldn't have said anything. She would keep her mouth shut, apologise, and politely leave the room. But it's the way he's sitting, like he owns the damn place, and how he raises his eyebrows as a challenge she's all too willing to accept.

"Sorry, but I think you're wrong," she tells him, not sorry at all.

"Really, Miss Swan," he says through his teeth.

She looks over at Belle, who had been so kind to her a moment ago. She remains silent, just like everyone else. Silent and watching. Emma casts her eyes over all the people in the room and her blood boils.

"Alright, fine. Whatever." She turns on her heel and storms out the room.

Cold air and regret hit her as soon as she's in the corridor. She's blown it. No TV show wants to work with a rude actress, especially if they're a main character. Still, she can't help but feel it was completely _unfair._ She's perfected that audition a million times over. He could have picked on her mannerisms, or her facial expressions, things she _knows_ she needs to work on. Not her line delivery. Not the thing she's good at.

But maybe she isn't right for the part.

She leans on the wall outside the room, her head falling against it. She could go back in and apologise? But something keeps her rooted to the spot. She doesn't want to face that man again, or any of them really.

"You okay there, love?"

Emma's eyes snap open at the voice. A man stands in front of her, clad in a ridiculous amount of leather. He's watching her with crossed arms and a twinkle in his eye. He's tall. Thick black hair is parted at the side. There's a dusting of stubble over his cheeks. He looks… familiar. She's more than sure she's seen him before, but she can't pinpoint where. Normally Emma is good with faces.

"I'm fine," she says, standing up straight. She takes a step away from the wall.

He leans forward, arms still folded. "I take it you just had an audition. And it didn't go well." He has an English accent. What's up with people and accents today?

"Hey!" she snaps. "It went perfectly fine, actually."

His eyebrows fly up to his forehead. She can't help but think his face has so much character. He looks like the acting type. A part of her wonders who he's auditioning for. She didn't think they were bringing in any new male characters.

"Who did you audition for?" he asks.

She narrows her eyes, debating whether to tell him. She doesn't really like to tell anyone anything, especially complete strangers, even if it's something as petty as this. But he just waits patiently for her, watching her face with amused eyes.

"Rose," she tells him after a moment.

"Oh." His eyes light up. "Well it looks as if you might be my leading lady."

Then it clicks where she's seen him from.

The TV show. She must have caught his face from the TV when Henry was watching it. He's Alexander. _Alexander._ The main character.

"You're Alexander." She wonders whether she should be star struck, but she isn't. If anything, she's a little irritated he's caught her after the audition she's blown.

"Aye, that I am. Though I _do_ have a real name," he says. There's a certain confidence in his expression. He extends a hand, with a slight curl of his lips. "Killian Jones."

She stares at his hand for a moment, arms crossed and hostile. Again, he just waits patiently. She figures she might as well humour him. After all, she might never see him again.

She thrusts her hand forward, with a mumble of "Emma Swan." Instead of shaking it like any normal person would, he takes her hand in his and brings it up to his lips. Without ever taking his eyes off hers, he kisses her hand. It's slow and gentle. His lips barely brush her skin, but there's still a slight pink tinge to her cheeks.

And there's one thought going through her mind. He's probably like this with everyone. An ultimate player. Emma knows to stay the hell away from players.

When he releases her hand, she snatches it back and folds her arms again. He seems unphased, watching her with dark eyes.

"Anyway, I better go," she says, a little coldly.

"I see," he says, amused. Then, more seriously, "I hope I'll be seeing you, Emma Swan."

She's taken back by that, but she makes sure her outsides don't match her insides. With a casual shrug of her shoulders, she murmurs, "Yeah, well. Bye."

She's halfway down the corridor before she hears him call back, "Goodbye."

She can still feel his eyes on her as she bolts through the double doors which lead to the staircase.


	2. Chapter 2

**I know I said I'd update Mondays but I just couldn't wait! So here you go :) The next update WILL be Monday, though. I hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

The sound of her phone, shrill and demanding, against her wooden bedside table, wakes her with a start. She tries to open her eyes, but her lids are heavy with exhaustion, and they fall closed again. When she manages to pry them open, she squints at the room around her. It's dark, thanks to her heavy blackout curtains, but a thin wisp of light seeps through a gap.

One arm emerges from the mountain of covers that drown her. She pats the bedside table blindly in a frantic search for her phone. Soon, she's pressing it to her ear.

"Hello," she says, voice thick with sleep.

"Emma!"

"David," Emma groans. "What are you doing calling so early? It's only…"

"Ten o'clock." There's an amused tone to his voice. Her eyes move to the alarm clock. So it is. "You should really get up earlier."

"Sure thing, _Dad."_ There's a chuckle from the other end of the line. "What do you want?"

"I'm the bearer of good news. It's about the audition."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. She's still in full zombie mode. But when the word "audition" fights through the haziness, she's suddenly alert. She sits up, throwing the covers away. The room spins, but she ignores it. "The audition?"

It's been a few weeks since the audition. She was beginning to give up all hope of hearing anything back from them at all, especially after her little argument. Usually they're faster to send out rejection letters.

"They loved you. You've got a callback."

A beat. And then: " _What?"_

"That's right."

Emma sits in silence, unable to believe it. His words echo over and over in her head like a record. When she speaks again, her voice is weak. "But… I got into an argument with one of them. I stormed out."

"Yeah, they told me that. I said it sounds like something you'd do. As it turns out, that's what they wanted. This character has a lot of fire. They wanted to see if you had some of that yourself."

" _Seriously_?"

"Seriously!" he laughs. "So get up, get dressed and learn some more of that script. They emailed me callback details. I'll forward them to you."

"Thanks David." Her voice is breathless. She's already out of bed, ripping clothes from the wardrobe. Her faded blue jeans and a thin sweater. The phone balances awkwardly between her shoulder and her ear.

"I'll speak to you later, Emma."

She throws her phone over on the bed, on top of the covers. Within minutes she's dressed, and hopping on one foot as she yanks her boots over her socks. She has a busy day ahead of her.

* * *

David comes with her to the audition. He picks her up in his car (after the nightmare she had with her bug last time) and she climbs nervously into the passenger side. The seats are all comfortable leather. Air conditioning hits her as soon as she slides in, relaxing her, if only a little.

"Emma, hey," he greets with a wide, easy going smile. "Nervous?"

"What do you think?"

She wipes her palms on her skirt. She's chosen to dress smart today; a black jumper and a black skirt over black tights. Maybe she should have dressed with more colour instead of like she's heading to a funeral. She even left her trusty red jacket at home, which she's starting to see as a mistake. The smell of the leather usually calms her. She feels stronger when she wears her armour.

"You have nothing to worry about." He reassures her. The car hums to life and he pulls out onto the trafficless street. "They loved you. I could tell."

"You're too optimistic for your own good." She places her warm hands against the vents. Cool air soothes her burning skin. "You weren't even there."

"Have faith. Do you know what's expected of you from this audition? They want to see-"

"See how I am with other characters, yeah, yeah." She rolls her eyes. "You've said it a million times."

"Chemistry is important." He takes his eyes off the road for a second to give her a look. One of _those_ looks that makes her feel like a child. "It can make or break a TV show. Especially if they give you a romantic plot, which I'm sure they're going to. The audience have to fall in love with the characters before the characters fall in love with each other."

"Careful, David. You're starting to sound like you actually know what you're talking about."

He laughs, bright and warm. "This may come as a surprise, Emma, but I _do_ know what I'm talking about."

The journey takes forever even though it's only thirty miles. By the time they get there, a nest of butterflies have built in her stomach. She both loves and loathes this feeling that comes with the job.

They're early and so they sit in the car and wait. David chats about Mary Margaret. They're expecting a baby and he's super excited, unable to keep the grin off his face. Emma takes this as a sign. It means good news all around.

When the time comes, they walk together, side-by-side. David strolls. Emma walks uneasily, like her feet are made of lead. The building looms ahead, casting a dark shadow over them. Even though Emma has been here before it still puts her off a little.

The elevator works this time. When David asks why she's smiling, she tells him the story of her last audition and how _everything_ seemed to be moving against her, like the universe was telling her she couldn't do it.

"I'd like to see the thing that stops Emma Swan," David murmurs as he presses one of the floor buttons.

It feels like they're in that musty little elevator longer than they should be. Creaking sounds around them, endless and unnerving. It could drop at any moment, Emma thinks. They're supposed to be renovating the building, but they can't have done this part yet.

Eventually, there's a ding. The elevator doors open with a groan. It's their cue to leave, but Emma isn't exactly sure she can. She stares out into the corridor, onto the white walls and the tiled floors. It's all too familiar to her, and at the same time, it's not familiar at all. Maybe that's what keeps her rooted to the spot.

"Emma…?" David asks. "You alright there?" His eyes are fixed on her face.

"I just need a minute."

The thing is, she's terrified. A lot is riding on this audition. A hell of a lot. She can see Henry in front of her as clear as day, his expression falling as she tells him she hasn't got it. The thought of telling him they'll _still_ be struggling with money makes her stomach churn. Maybe he'll go and live with Regina permanently. She won't stop him. It's what's best for him.

"Emma…?"

Her eyes meet his, wide and shining. "I have to get this."

"You will." Unwavering confidence. She wonders if he says this to all his clients.

"No, David. You don't understand. I _need_ this. I need to get it."

He takes a stride towards her and grasps her shoulders in his big hands. Staring right into her face, he shakes her a little. "Then _take_ it. You go in there and you take it."

She stares back. She can see that hope in his eyes, the same hope she's seen in his wife's so many times. "Okay."

After one more long stare, David releases her. She steps out of the elevator, into the corridor. They make their way down to the room in a loud silence. It's a different room from the original audition, further down the corridor.

David gives her a gentle push by her shoulders. With her heart in her throat, she knocks on the the door.

"Come in," calls a cheerful voice she recognises as Belle's.

Emma places her hand on the metal door handle and pushes. Cool air hits her as she takes a step inside. The room is much smaller than the previous one. There isn't even a space for acting.

There are a few coffee tables dotted around, filled with cookies of all shapes and sizes, and plastic cups for water and coffee. Chairs litter the room, some occupied, some empty. Most people stand around, chatting. She wonders if they're the actors or the producers.

David follows closely behind, a hand resting lightly on her shoulder. Some people glance at her when she walks in. Few smile.

"Emma," Belle greets when she sees her. She rushes over in her heels. "I'm glad you could make it."

"She wouldn't miss it for the world," David laughs, smacking her on the back.

"Well, I'm glad to hear it." That smile doesn't falter. "Okay, so Emma. You'll be acting with Killian Jones today. I'm sure you've heard of him."

"I've met him." When Belle raises her eyebrows, she adds quickly: "I ran into him after my audition. He introduced himself."

"Why am I not surprised?" says Belle, shaking her head. There's a fondness there. "So basically we're going to do it a bit impromptu. Kind of, kind of not, because you'll still be reading from the script. We'll take you to a room. He'll be in there. The rule is, as soon as you enter the room, you have to be in character. And you can't come out of character until you leave the room, okay?"

"Okay." She gives a firm nod. Emma's heard before that shows and movies do this sometimes. Didn't they do something like that with the Harry Potter movies? She remembers Henry telling her.

"We're going to give you a little time to prepare, and then we're going to take you in. So in about thirty minutes, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"So have some coffee, maybe a biscuit, and try not to look so nervous." She pats her arm soothingly. "I'll see you very soon. I just have to go and talk to Killian."

Belle leaves her, disappearing out the door. As soon as she's gone, David leans towards Emma, voice a low murmur. "I'm going to mingle. Find out the details. I'll be back. Have a coffee."

"Sure," she says with a small smile. He rubs her shoulder and disappears across the room.

Emma makes her way over to the coffee table, where people can help themselves. She scoops some sugar (more than she should) and pours coffee into a cheap, plastic cup. The only milk provided are those in little thimble containers. The ones that are tasteless.

Once she's satisfied her fuel craving, she takes a seat at one of the tables to go over her script. The page makes satisfying swoosh sounds as she flicks through to find the scene she's learned.

It was between Rose and Alexander, who is Killian's character. It's an apology scene, from Alexander to Rose, after he's been particularly rude to her. It seems the writers have started the whole love-hate relationship thing that's so popular.

She remains there for a good twenty minutes, alone and happy. She reads through the script, repeating the words, "I can do this," over and over in her head. And she _can_ do it. She knows she can.

It isn't too long before David pulls out a chair and plonks himself down next to her. He's smiling but, then again, when is he not?

"Good news?" Emma asks.

He brings a finger up to his lips so swiftly, Emma has to wonder if it was ever there. She gets the hint and falls silent.

David leans forward, voice soft. "As it turns out they're not very impressed with the auditions at the moment."

Emma glances around to make sure no-one's listening. "How come?"

"They're very same old, same old. Do you know what that means?"

"I have to do something impressive," she answers almost at once.

"Right you are."

"That's all well and good David, but what the _hell do I do?"_

He leans back in his chair, pursing his lips. "I don't know. Give me five minutes."

"Emma Swan?"

The voice comes from behind them.. An asian woman with long black hair and an oval face stands above them, holding a clipboard. "They're ready for you."

Emma's stomach drops. She throws a panicked look over at David, whose face mirrors her expression.

"Can we, uh, have five more minutes?" he asks.

"I'm afraid we're on a tight schedule," she says, with a mandatory smile. "Emma has to come now. Unless she wants to miss the audition."

"But…"

The sound of Emma's chair scraping against the floor as she stands, interrupts him. "I'll be fine," she reassures, more herself than him. "See you soon."

And then she follows the woman out the room and into the corridor, wiping her palms on her jeans. Her heart is running at a million miles an hour, and she prays the woman doesn't hear it. She can't let on how nervous she is, but it seems impossible.

Her mind desperately searches for something unique to do for her audition, but she's grasping at straws. She's had her audition _perfected_ for the past week. Down to the pronunciation of every syllable. How's she supposed to change that in a matter of minutes?

She's not.

She can't.

"As I'm sure you're aware," says the dark-haired woman, bringing Emma from her thoughts. "As soon as you set foot in the room, you're in character. Okay?"

"Okay." The thump, thump, thump of her heart sounds in her ears.

"Hey?" she says softly. Emma glances up. "I'm Mulan."

"Oh. Right," she replies, not really sure what to say. Mulan already knows _her_ name, so what is she supposed to say? It's nice to meet her? Is it?

"You're gonna be fine, Emma. Don't worry too much."

"Yeah."

"Whenever you're ready, Emma."

She takes a deep breath, hands curling in her pockets as she sizes up the door. And then, she pushes it open.

This room is a lot larger than the previous audition room, with a generous space to act. Its walls are white and harsh. A few people are sat in there, Belle included. The same camera from her last audition blinks at her. Then she spots Killian, facing away from her, staring at one of the walls. He must be in character.

She's very aware of the others watching her. It kicks her into action.

"Sire?" she asks automatically.

He doesn't turn, but stares at something Emma can't see. She fixes her eyes on the back of his head, heart beating wildly.

 _Do something different,_ she thinks. _Damn it, Emma Swan_.

Her mind comes up blank. An uneasy feeling settles itself in her stomach. She's trying to think of something different, she _really_ is, but she's also trying to remember her lines. She can't do both.

"Can I help you?" Killian asks, cutting.

Maybe she could play the character differently? Maybe the character could do something _out_ of character…

No, that's stupid, she tells herself.

"I was wondering if I could ask something of you…"

That grabs his attention. He turns, eyebrows shooting up. "Oh?"

Rose lets out a relieved breath, but Emma's having a hard time calming her breathing. They're both in similar situations. They're both doing something that will have consequences, whatever happens.

"We're down on medical supplies," she says, "I was wondering if you could… ask King George for some more?"

"More medical supplies?" He asks without a beat.

"Yes," she clasps her hands in front of her and bites her lip. "We desperately need some."

"You want me to..." he takes a step towards her, oozing arrogance, not unlike Killian himself. "Ask my father?"

 _Come on Emma. Something different. Something new._

"Yes," she replies, looking right into his eyes. There's a buzz in the room. She can feel the producers' eyes on them, watching intently

A pause. A breath. Killian's eyes flicker across Emma's face, as if he's studying every feature. Even though they're acting, it makes her feel a little uncomfortable.

"And why would I…" he begins softly, "Help a servant such as yourself?"

Her eyes widen. "If you don't, people will die!"

"People die all the time." He waves a dismissive hand. He turns and stalks towards the other end of the room. She follows him, eyes still wide.

"Needlessly!" she exclaims.

He waves another dismissive hand.

"Your Grace, with all due respect, you can't-"

He whirls on his heel, face inches away from hers. "I can do what I want. I am the prince and I'm soon to become king."

"You-"

"Silence."

"But you-"

"SILENCE," He roars in her face. She doesn't flinch.

Emma doesn't know what makes her do it. Maybe it's because that pesky voice in her head is telling her to be different. Maybe it's because it's what she imagines she would do in this situation. Maybe it's because violence isn't a stranger to her.

She pulls back her hand and slaps him across the face. Hard.

For a moment, the silence is louder than their breathing. His ringed fingers come up to gently brush his face, now red and stinging. He stares at her in shock, and Emma can't exactly work out whether it's Alexander or Killian's eyes on her.

"I-" She swallows, mouth dry, painfully aware that she may have just cost herself the role. "I must go." And then she scrambles to the door and leaves as quickly as she can.

As soon as she's out, she rests her back flat against the door and breathes deeply. Tears sting her eyes, but she doesn't let them fall. Instead, she makes her way back into that other room, wanting to get her stuff and leave as soon as possible.

When David sees her expression, his face falls. "What did you do?"

"Don't want to talk about it." She reaches for her bag. The room is watching her. She wished they'd mind their own business. "Come on. Let's go."

He follows her out the door, and down the stairs (she doesn't bother waiting for the elevator). The summer haze does nothing for her temper. It just makes her feel even more hot. Only when they're in the car, does David speak again.

"What did you do?"

"I told you. Don't want to talk about it."

He watches her for a long time. She presses her lips together and stares straight ahead, fixing her eyes on a building. When he finally gets the hint that she's not going to talk, he sighs and starts the car. It comes to life. They drive the way home in silence.

* * *

"Mom!" comes Henry's voice from the living room. She doesn't hear it at first. She's cooking them pasta in the kitchen, listening to the rhythmic bubble of the water. The second "MOM!" has her heart in her throat. He sounds desperate.

Leaving the pasta to bubble over, Emma tears out of the kitchen. "Henry?" she yells, running through their hallways. "Henry, what's wrong?"

He meets her in the hallway, almost colliding into her face-first. She catches him by his arms, staring into his face with wild eyes. He's as white as a sheet, and his mouth hangs open.

"Henry?" she demands, shaking him.

"Mom, you got the part!"

"What's wrong?"

"Mom, listen to me. You got the part."

She freezes, staring at him. She feels all the colour drop from her face as she processes his words. "What?"

"There's a message on the answering machine. I think it's from the casting director? He said you got the part. You've gotta call him back."

Emma's hands drop Henry's arms. She feels numb, but not in a bad way. Just a shocked way. Part of her brain is screaming at her, telling her it's a trick, but the more rational side is telling her it can't be. How can it be?

"Oh God," she whispers. One hand flies up to her mouth, the other combs her hair behind her ear.

She can't believe it. She can't.

She's got it and she can't believe it.

"Mom, you need to check the message," says Henry, the voice of reason breaking through her dreamlike state.

She sinks back against the wall, afraid her knees are going to give out. Tears threaten to make an appearance. "You're right," is all she can say.

Once she's gathered the courage, she makes her way into the living room, where the phone is waiting.

The conversation is a quick one, where everything is confirmed. She got the part, even though she slapped their leading star, just like she got a callback even though she argued with one of the producers. Emma can't stop thanking him throughout the call, even as he tries to tell her valuable information.

When she hangs up, she dials David's number straight away to tell him the good news.

"Get on over here right now," he demands. "This calls for a celebration!"

* * *

Henry follows Emma up to the path of the Nolans' house. She's made him carry a cherry and apple pie, something they picked up from Regina's pie shop on the way there. He hasn't dropped it… yet. She has to hand it to the kid; he's carried the pie almost all the way here (they haven't brought the bug, because Emma wants a drink) and hasn't complained at all.

In her own hands, Emma carries two bottles of wine; one red, one white. Originally she was only going to bring one, but it's a celebration after all.

Emma shoves a bottle of wine under one of her arms and uses her newly freed hand to ring the doorbell. They both stand there for a moment, shivering ever-so-slightly. It's cold for early last August, despite the raging heat earlier in the day. Autumn must be on its way.

Soon enough, the door swings open. David stands there with a huge grin on his face. "Emma! Come on in."

Emma and Henry follow him inside, into their modest hallway. Emma slips out of her heels in the doorway, and Henry awkwardly unlaces his sneakers, placing them against the wall. David takes their coats, and ushers them into the kitchen and dining room where Mary Margaret is waiting for them.

She opens her arms when she sees them. "Emma. Henry."

Emma hugs her tightly, murmuring a congratulations about the baby at they pat each other's shoulders and stroke each other's backs. When they pull back, Emma can see tears shining in Mary Margaret's eyes. Happy tears.

"Congratulations on the audition," she says, meaning every word of it. "It's about time you had some good luck."

"Tell me about it," Emma sighs, as she places the wine on the kitchen table, and sinks down into one of the kitchen chairs. Mary Margaret swipes the bottles up and pulls three wine glasses (and one normal glass for Henry) from the cupboard. "It's been a tough few years. Hasn't it, kid?"

Henry nods.

"And now you have a job on one of the biggest shows to ever grace television," she muses, as she opens the wine and pours it in two glasses. The other two glasses, she fills with lemonade for herself and Henry.

"I've gotta say, it's super surreal."

"And for me," comes David's voice from behind them. He makes his way into the room, arms folded, shaking his head. "You're about to be one of my biggest clients yet."

"What about Ruby?" Emma teases, taking a sip from the glass Mary Margaret has just handed her. She can feel herself unwinding after all the tension of the past few weeks. It's like heaven.

David takes a seat beside her. "You've just overtaken Ruby by a milestone."

Emma doesn't want to be pleased at that, but she can't help herself. It's like the universe is finally giving back to her, after all these years of taking and taking.

"What do you think about your Mom being on your favourite TV show?" Mary Margaret asks Henry, as he sits opposite them, hands wrapped around his glass.

Henry, in typical teenager fashion, shrugs his shoulders. "It's pretty cool, I guess."

"You can tell us all the gossip, Henry," David laughs. "Who everyone likes. Who everyone hates."

"Alexander is a super popular character, I guess," he admits. And then, after a moment, "All my girl friends think he's kinda hot." And then his face colours, red rising up his neck and onto his cheeks. "I mean friends who are girls. They think he's hot."

"Oh yeah?" David's unable to keep the smirk off his face. Mary Margaret swats his arm.

"Don't embarrass him!" she scolds.

Emma can't help but laugh at that. It's amazing how Emma and Henry have fit themselves into David's little family. David could have been just her agent, but he's become _so_ much more. She clicked with him when she first met him. After she'd met Mary Margaret for the first time, she knew she'd made a friend for life. Those kind eyes and that open heart was everything she didn't know she needed.

The rest of the night is one of the happiest Emma's ever had in her whole life. They laugh, they joke, she and David get drunk.

Emma manages to coax more information about the show from Henry. Apparently Alexander (Killian's character) has had a long, long string of lovers (or "girlfriends", as Henry put it). It makes Emma wonder whether they're going to keep her on the show. David is quick to soothe her worries. He tells her they've been looking for a more permanent love interest for a while. Henry agrees with that. He says the many girlfriends have gotten a little boring.

It puts Emma's mind at rest, but she's always been a worrier.

When it's time to go, Emma doesn't want to. They take a long time to say their goodbyes, with kisses on cheeks and over-enthusiastic hugs. It's about one o'clock when they leave. Henry doesn't mind because it's Friday and he doesn't have school.

When Emma gets in, she falls asleep on the sofa with a smile on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm sorry I didn't update on Monday! I hope you like this one!**

* * *

When Emma wakes the next morning, her head is pulsing to a steady drum beat. She opens her eyes to blazing light, only for them to fall shut again. After a few moments of lying there, she notices an ache in her back. It's only then that she realises she's twisted awkwardly on… the sofa? She doesn't remember falling asleep on the sofa. Then again, she doesn't remember much from the night before. How did she get home?

Henry.

He's standing over her, arms folded, watching her with a very parent-like expression. His form is a little blurry (maybe it's because she only has one eye open), an aura of light surrounding his head like a halo.

That's when she notices it. The scent of coffee. It fills her nose like a blessing, already alerting her senses. It sits on the table in front of the sofa, waiting for her. Henry is truly an angel.

"Thanks, kid."

"Anytime, Mom," he says, a little too loud for her liking.

It takes a good hour for the light to become bearable but even then, she patters around the house in her slippers, squinting. Four coffees later, and she's still not righted herself.

Henry passes her the phone when David calls. She's curled up on the sofa. Her big fluffy dressing gown drowns her, the material soft against her skin. She asks him general pleasantries; how he and Mary Margaret are doing after last night's antics, or more importantly, how _David_ is doing. If she has a hangover, he must too. According to David, this is the worst hangover he's had in _decades._ Every little sound makes him squint. Mary Margaret is revelling in it. She keeps speaking very loudly, laughing when David covers his ears and whines. Emma can't help but laugh at that. Despite her own hangover, she hasn't felt this good in so long.

Once her laughter has died down to the occasional hiccup, David gives her a whole lot of information about the show and what's to come next. She'll find a few scripts in the mail, and a filming schedule will be emailed to her sometime later today. He comments that he might have forgotten something (he's convinced he's still drunk) but if there's anything else, he'll let her know. She hangs up with a smile on her face.

As promised, the scripts come through the post. Emma scrambles through the hall as soon as she hears the thud of paper hitting the wooden floor. Hungry fingers rip away the paper. She feasts her eyes on the the first few episodes. Pages of writing have never looked so satisfying.

She spends the rest of the morning pouring over the scripts, drinking in the words between coffee and toast. A few times Henry makes a grab for them, but Emma swats him away. She's more than sure spoilers are banned, even for close family. It must be hard for him, having the secrets of his favourite show within his grasp, but just out of reach. She'll have to lock them up in the safe tonight and hide the key.

It looks good. Really good. Emma doesn't have too many scenes, but that's fine with her. They seem to be introducing her gently, so the audience can slowly get to know her.

Once she's read the scripts, she reads them again. And again and again and again. She only stops reading to take a shower and get dressed, and then she reads again. When she's not reading, she's thinking about it. It consumes her. Only a knock on the door interrupts her.

"Damn," she mumbles, rising from the kitchen chair.

She forgot Regina is coming to pick Henry up today. He's spending a few days with her, while she prepares for the beginning of filming next week.

Emma makes her way into the hallway to the door, but Henry beats her to it, wrenching it open. Regina stands, as classy as always in her high heels and a knee-length black dress.

"Henry," she says, unable to keep the smile off her face. He wraps his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. She pats the back of his head fondly. Her eyes glance upwards, and she sobers a little when she sees Emma leaning against the wall, arms folded.

"Emma," she greets, nodding once.

"Regina," Emma replies. "Come on in."

Henry releases her, and she makes her way inside, shrugging a plum jacket from her shoulders. Emma catches a brief whiff of perfume as she sashays down the hall. For a moment Emma is stunned, amazed at how far they've come. A few years ago, Regina wouldn't have even entered her house, let alone made herself at home. Though they both would never admit it, they've become friends.

She heads into the kitchen as Regina follows Henry into the living room. Emma pulls two mugs from the cupboard. She knows how Regina likes her coffee now; black and sugarless. She taps her fingers against the counter as she waits for the kettle to boil. Vaguely, she can hear Regina talking to Henry, asking him about his schoolwork and friends. Henry is telling her about his struggles with science when Emma makes her way into the living room, balancing the two coffee cups.

"Thank you," Regina says when she hands her a mug.

Emma scoots onto the sofa next to Regina, and brings the coffee up to her lips, too eager. It scolds her tongue. She's starting to believe she's become addicted to the stuff.

"I believe congratulations are in order," Regina smiles, slow and catlike. It's a smile that shows all her teeth.

"Thanks. I still can't believe it."

Emma shakes her head. Everything is about to change, she can feel it. There will be no more struggling with money, no more endless job hunting. She can't _wait_ to walk into the bar she works at and tell the snotty staff that she quits.

"I sat and watched a few episodes of the show last night," Regina says matter-of-factly. Emma's taken aback, She hasn't even watched it herself.

"You... did?"

"Mm. It wasn't bad. Good, even."

"It... is?"

She raises one of those dark eyebrows. That slow smile returns. "You haven't seen it." It's not a question.

Emma bites her lip, feeling a little sheepish. "With learning all the scripts and stuff…" That's not entirely true. She's seen snippets of it, while Henry had it on, but not enough to properly understand it.

"You haven't had time," Regina finishes for her. She blows softly on her coffee, somehow managing to make even _that_ look elegant. "That's fair enough. But I suggest you start soon, Emma. You have five seasons to get through."

" _Five,"_ she chokes.

"Twenty-two episodes per season. You'll have to borrow the boxsets from Henry. I'm sure he has them."

"I bought them for him one Christmas," she says, still aghast.

"Only the first three seasons," Henry chimes from the other side of the room.

There's only one small sofa, so he's sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him. The laptop rests on his lap. He'd been watching the screen intently, but now he's watching his moms. A blue glow from the screen casts over his face, illuminating his smile. "Kinda need the next two though."

There's a silence. She needs to buy Henry the boxsets for _her_ benefit as much as his, but she just doesn't have the spare money. Boxsets are expensive.

"I'll get them for you," Regina muses, after a moment. "If…" She pauses, raising her eyebrows a little. "You help me with the redecorating."

Regina has been trying to get Henry to help her with redecorating their house for weeks, but nothing she says can get him to do it. Usually, he's quick to help with anything but recently he's become more reserved. Regina blames the internet. Emma disagrees; she thinks it's because he's growing up. Sometimes Regina forgets he's fifteen, almost a young man now.

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

"Don't take that tone with me."

They stare each other out; Henry frustrated, Regina passive. Eventually, he gives the most teenager sigh Emma has ever heard and relents. "Okay, fine."

She smirks into her coffee, and shares a look with Emma. It's a look that says moms will always get their own way, no matter what.

For the next half an hour or so, they talk about other things. Regina's pie shop is doing well. She's going to have to hire more staff. They can't cope with all the extra business. She's looking to expand, actually, but she doesn't know where to yet. She's looking for a place that pops.

Emma mentions that David and Mary Margaret are having a baby, but that's all she says. She doesn't want to make Regina uncomfortable. Afterall, Regina and Mary Margaret have never seen eye-to-eye, (Emma didn't have any idea they'd met until after David became her agent; small world) for reasons unclear to her. She thinks it was something to do with a secret and Regina's mother, but Emma's never pushed the subject.

Regina forces a polite smile. Emma bites her tongue and resists the urge to suggest they bury the hatchet. She knows from past experience it can be soul destroying to harbour such a grudge. Then again, she doesn't know exactly what happened between them. And she's not sure she actually _wants_ to know. Mary Margaret has become a close friend to her. Closer than she will ever be with Regina, even though they share a son.

After a while of meaningless conversation and small talk, Emma begins to feel a little restless. She desperately wants to talk about _Kings and Queens._ She can't deny the excitement bubbling in her, gnawing at her stomach, but she keeps it at bay. She doesn't want to bore anyone. Regina, especially, since they're getting on so well. So when Regina brings up the show again, Emma can't help the elation that overflows.

"So I did some research…" she begins, pursing her lips in a satisfied way. "On the show."

"I bet you did."

Regina has friends in high places from her time as Mayor. She can get information on anyone and anything. All she has to do is charm them a little. A smile here, a gentle touch there. She can have them eating out the palm of her hand.

"It's popular. _Very_ popular."

"Yeah, yeah." Emma waves her off. She's heard that enough from David.

Regina watches her for a moment, pressing her perfectly painted lips together. Then she leans forward a little, cradling her coffee in her hands. "I don't think you realise the _scale_ of it, Emma. It's almost _Game of Thrones_ big."

"I've never seen _Game of Thrones_."

" _You_ may not have, but the rest of the world has. Do you know what that means?"

Emma can't stop herself from rolling her eyes. "Enlighten me."

"This show is big. Even if they kill you off after the first few episodes, you'll be rich for life. You'll be made. Everyone else will want you for work. Do you understand that?"

Emma's not sure she does. She hasn't had time to _really_ dwell on it, but when she has, she's thought about the money. About being able to provide for Henry. Not only that, but she'll be able to earn a small fortune doing something she loves. In all honesty, the fame really hasn't crossed her mind, but she's sure it will now. Still, she doesn't really want to admit Regina's right, and so she rolls her eyes again.

"I'm not a four-year old, Regina," she sighs. "I don't need you to explain everything to me."

It's clear from the smile curling at the corners of Regina's lips that she doesn't believe her. But rather than question Emma, she leans back against the sofa and places her empty coffee cup on the table in front of her.

"Just ask Henry," she tells her, rather smugly. "He has a blog."

"A blog?"

Emma's eyes fly over to her son, who pretends to not have heard. He's typing away at his laptop, probably working on a new story. His cheeks colour a little.

"What's it called?" Regina tries to recall. "It's not just any blog. It's a special type of blog. It's… what's it called, Henry?"

"No idea."

"Yes you do!" She laughs. "What is it? Rumble… Tumble… Tum… I can't remember. Anyway, it doesn't matter. My point is a lot of people have blogs like it, and a lot of these blogs are to do with your show."

"Really?" Now she's intrigued. She leans forward. "What's on them?"

"I don't know the ins and outs. But there's quite a lot of content. Art, writing, opinions."

Opinions? Emma thinks she might avoid one of those tumble things. She's heard that actors show avoid reading about themselves at all costs, especially people's opinions on their acting or the storytelling. Even though the good is supposed to outweigh the bad, she's not sure she's recover from seeing any hate comments. They'd be burned in her brain.

Not that she's not a confident woman. She _is._ She knows she's good at what she does, but hate comments are enough to throw anyone off balance.

"I don't know much about them," Regina continues after a thoughtful pause. "But what I _do_ know about is Killian Jones."

Emma keeps her voice nonchalant, almost impassive. "Oh. Him."

"I figured you might as well know the person you're going to have to be spending every day with," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Huh," is all Emma can say.

She doesn't really want to think about Killian Jones. Not after she smacked him in the face. Whenever she remembers that, she remembers the shocked expression on his face, and the tension in the room. The thought of seeing him after that makes her stomach churn.

"Apparently he's good to work with. Friendly. If a little… flirty."

"So he's got an ego?" Of course he has. He seems like the type.

"I suppose he does. He's been rated hottest male for the past three years in a row."

"Oh right." And that's probably done _nothing_ to help said ego.

"Before he got into acting, he was in the navy. A Captain of sorts."

"C'mon Regina, if I wanted to know that, I'd look up his biography."

"Okay, _fine_." Regina says, pressing her lips together. She's silent for a moment, framing her words. "There's some tension between him and Gold. No-one knows why."

Emma frowns. "Gold?"

"He's an actor on the show. Small, thin man. Shoulder length hair. He's in The Full Monty. Played Rumplestiltskin in a film about, well, Rumplestiltskin." When Emma stares blankly, Regina sighs and reaches for her mobile phone from her bag. She quickly types away. Moments later, she shoves the phone in Emma's line of sight. "This is him."

Realisation dawns on her face. "He was at my audition! He told me I wasn't acting right. I didn't realise he was an actor."

She can recall his thin face and those cold, judgemental eyes. And the way he spoke, through his teeth, when he told her she wasn't good enough.

"That's why you need to watch the show," She sighs. "Then you'd know. He plays Alexander's ruthless father."

"How can they act together if they have a feud? It doesn't make sense."

Regina simply shrugs, slipping her phone back into her bag. "Don't shoot the messenger. It's only what I heard."

"It's probably the media or something making things up. You can't believe half the stuff you read. It's all lies."

Amusement blinks over her face. "You're going to have to get used to that, Emma. They'll make lies up about you too, you know."

Emma remains silent. She hasn't thought about that part, but of course Regina is right. They'll drag her through the mud. They'll uncover things and twist them. Or worse, they'll find out the truth of her past and paint her as a villain. She has to be ready for it all.

"Anyway, that's enough gossip for now," Regina continues, eyes flickering up at the clock. "Henry and I will have to be off before it's too late. I want to make a pie for dessert."

She rises, smoothing down her dress, and Emma rises with her.

"Come on kid," Emma tells Henry. "Get your coat."

Henry turns his laptop off and scrambles up from the floor. He disappears out the room. Emma carries the coffee cups into the kitchen and Regina follows, heels clicking against the tiled floor. Then they wait at the door for Henry to gather his things.

"Well, Emma, good luck," Regina tells, as Henry makes his way over to them. Without looking at him, she says, "Do your laces up properly before you trip over them." And then she addresses Emma again. "Keep me updated."

"I will." Emma opens the door. "I guess I'll see you soon."

"See you soon."

With one last smile at Emma, Regina places a hand on Henry's shoulder and leads him down the path, to her car. Henry turns and waves. Emma watches them drive off, leaning against the door. She allows herself a smile before she makes her way back inside the house.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd just like to take a moment to say thank you so much for all the lovely comments! They really make me smile. You can't see me right now (that would be weird) but I'm grinning like a loon.**

 **This is where it starts to get interesting. I hope you like it!**

* * *

The read-through takes place in the same building, but a completely different room from before - one of the renovated rooms. Emma can't help but be happy about it. The musty smell, reminiscent of her time in the system, didn't do anything to calm her nerves. Neither did the creaky, old elevator that could've snapped at any moment.

Perhaps that's why, compared to the auditions, she isn't as anxious. These hallways are modernised and cool. The walls are clean, and the white tiles are shiny. The strong scent of lemon cleaning products fill her nose, making her eyes water. She quickly wipes away the tears before they can do damage to her makeup.

Emma walks with a spring in her step. Though she's stepping into the unknown, she isn't going there completely blind. She's already got the part. It's smooth sailing from here. But that isn't to say she isn't nervous at _all._ What she _is_ afraid of (if just a little) is seeing Killian Jones. She's not laid eyes on him since she slapped him, and she can't begin to imagine how he's going to react. He could have a flaming hot temper for all she knows.

The door is left ajar. There's a big paper sign taped to it, and written in red capital letters: "READ-THROUGHS." A little tentatively, she pushes the door open the rest of the way. There isn't any creaking sound, unlike the last place.

The room is _enormous_ , bigger than she could have imagined. A huge rectangular table, large enough to seat about twenty people, takes pride of place in the middle. Other smaller tables surround it like islands. White walls blink at her, contrasting against a dull green carpet which reminds her of her school days.

Emma hesitates, hovering in the doorway, one foot in, one foot out. She grips the strap of her bag hanging over her shoulder. There are a load of empty chairs, but she doesn't know where to sit.

The actors, including Killian Jones, reside at the middle table. She recognises them from a binge watch - she managed to get through about two and a half seasons, with Henry being at Regina's. It's strange to see them in normal clothes, without their expensive medieval dresses or long styled hair. Some even have completely different hair; short, or brown when it should be blonde.

Other people, who Emma assumes are producers and members of the crew, sit on the island tables. Most smile at her when she walks in, a few even wave, but she's unable to shake the awkwardness. She's out of her comfort zone with people she's never met before. Usually if it's just a few people she doesn't know, she's polite and charming. Sure, she had to talk to strangers with her bar job, but that was just a "Hi, what can I get you?" or a "Yeah, that'll be five dollars, please." Here she's going to have to make friends, and Emma's never been very good at making friends.

She sits at the table with the actors, lowering herself into a space she believes is at an acceptable distance from Killian, at least. Once she's sat down, she shrugs her leather jacket off her shoulders and swings it over the back of her chair. She can feel a few eyes on her.

The actors are chatting away; some in little groups, some in pairs. A quick glance tells her that most people are gathered around Killian Jones. He rolls a pair of dice, perhaps in a betting game they're playing to pass the time. His palm smacks against the table as an enthusiastic cheer erupts from the actors. He doesn't spare a glance in her direction.

Maybe he _is_ angry with her.

She watches him a little longer than she should, until she feels the chair beside her scrape against the carpet. A tall, slim man sinks into it. He has a little bit of a beard and kind, twinkling eyes. Like all the other actors, he looks awfully familiar...

"Emma Swan?" he asks in a thick, Irish accent. The accent puzzles her. It shouldn't come from him.

And then it clicks.

"Toby!" she breathes out, suddenly a little starstruck.

Toby is a friendly servant who works in the stables. He hears all, he sees all, and he despises the royals with every fiber of his being. He's often the first to hear of the king's plans to burn down a village, and sometimes he'll ride ahead to warn the village. He's in her top five favourite characters.

A laugh escapes him. "The name's Graham, but Toby… Toby will do."

"Sorry," she says, a little embarrassed. She watches him remove his jacket. "I guess I'm just used to seeing Toby."

"I bet the accent's weird, huh?" he laughs.

"A bit, yeah."

Her mind immediately flies to Killian Jones and his British accent. She can hear the way the words roll off his tongue. Everyone has to do a British accent on the show, but Killian is the only cast member who is actually from the country in question.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Emma. We haven't had a new cast member for a while. It's good to see a new face." He pauses in thought. "A new main character, I mean. Guest stars come and go, but you're here to stay."

"Unless they decide they don't like me."

"I doubt that," he says. Her instincts are going wild but for all the right reasons. He's genuine. Completely genuine.

They fall silent for a moment, both casting their eyes around the room in the awkwardness of it. Emma catches Killian staring directly at them, the dice abandoned. One of the other actors tugs on his arm to get his attention. He whips his gaze away as soon as their eyes meet.

"What are the read-throughs like?" Emma asks, turning back to Graham.

He gives a shrug. "They're not too bad. We read through the script, drink coffee, have a bit of a laugh."

"Sounds good."

He has her at 'coffee'. She hasn't had one in a while, not for a few hours. She needs one, especially after her late nights watching Kings and Queens. Maybe it's in another room, and she has to leave to go and get it. She doesn't want to be the first one to leave, so she busies herself with opening her script, flicking past the first few pages until she finds her scene.

"Can you tell me something, Emma?"

"Mm?" she asks, scanning the lines.

"What have you done to Killian Jones?" His voice is a murmur.

"Oh…" she freezes, eyes on the script. She remains silent for a moment, weighing up whether she can trust him.

"He keeps looking over at you."

She turns to Graham's kind, dark eyes and warm smile. He radiates the same goodness and innocence as David and Mary Margaret, people she trusts completely.

"I slapped him." His response is an eyebrow raise. "Across the face."

"Oh." Graham blinks a few times, leaning back in his chair. He doesn't look shocked or even judgmental, just mildly surprised. "Remind me never to piss you off."

"It was for the audition."

"Huh."

"Kind of a bad move."

"Yeah, aren't you supposed to be his love interest?" His lips curl in amusement.

"How could you _possibly_ know that?"

He watches her for a moment, wearing that same, amused smile. "It's obvious. Your character is the only one who's going to stand up to Alexander. The type of character he is, he needs that. They're setting it up."

"You're good."

"And…" He flicks through her script until the last page. "You two have the end scene. The last direction. Here, 'A look is passed between them.' _So_ obvious."

"You're very good."

He scratches his nose, modestly embarrassed. "I was a sheriff before I got into the acting business."

Emma wants to ask him how or what made him want to become an actor. After all, being a Sheriff and being an entertainer are two completely different things. But before she can, Belle drifts into the room, carrying an armful of papers and folders. She's followed by a short man with heavy footsteps.

"Good morning, good morning," she greets. She directs an especially warm smile towards Emma.

The folders, cradled in her arms, thump onto the table as she drops them. She takes a seat, her bag falling on the floor beside her. She pulls even more papers from it, including the script, and an array of brightly coloured markers.

The chatter in the room dies down, first to a hum and then eventually, silence. Belle explains a few things about the readings - about how they work, and Emma assumes it's for her and the guest stars' benefit. The man who came in with her makes suggestions as well, in a big, booming voice. From what Emma gathers, his name is Grumpy and he's the director. She can't help but think that's an odd name. She makes a mental note to ask Graham about it later.

When the actual reading starts, the familiar tugging of nerves in Emma's stomach make itself known. She's only been to one read-through before and it was staggered and awkward. This is the opposite. Energy radiates around the room.

She's so in awe of the other actors, she almost forgets to read her lines. They deliver theirs smoothly like they've been doing it for years, which they have. When it's her turn she can feel the room's eyes on her. Especially Killian's. She tries not to let that put her off. She wants to do a damn good performance.

When it's finished, she can't help but breathe out a sigh of relief.

Graham gives her a warm pat on the shoulder, and a faint, "You were brilliant."

Killian Jones is looking at her again.

Belle takes the time to explain the schedule for the next few weeks. Filming starts in seven days. Until then, it's going to be a whirl of costume fittings and rehearsals. She says everyone will be emailed a copy of their own personal filming schedule. The rest of the cast roll their eyes, exchanging glances. They've heard it a million times before.

"That's it for today," she finally announces, bright and chirpy. "I'll see you all soon."

Everyone begins to pack up, the chatting growing louder and louder as they shove scripts and water bottles into bags. Emma rearranges her bag to fit her script in there without folding it. She wants to preserve her first script. Maybe after this is all over, she'll frame it. Regina will probably judge her for that.

"Hey, Emma," Graham says from her side. "Do you fancy going to get a coffee?" His voice is smooth. Confident.

Her hands freeze in her bag. "A… coffee…?"

"Yeah, a coffee. It's a warm, drinking beverage, made of-"

"I know what a coffee is."

He leans back against the table, watching her. "I could let you in on a few cast secrets. Tell you what to expect."

She considers this for a moment, staring at the contents of her bag. Then she moves her hair over her shoulder to throw him a quick smile. "Sure thing." Why not? She could do with a friend. "But you can pay." She returns to fitting things in her bag.

"I wasn't aware this was a date."

Her head snaps over to him, eyes wide. "This isn't… it's not…"

"Relax," he laughs, deep and rumbling. There's the same amusement in his eyes from earlier. "I'm joking."

She can't help but breathe out a sigh of relief. She does _not_ want to date anyone, not right now, not ever. She doesn't date. One night stands are as far as it ever goes with her, and she's happy with that.

"Uh…" Graham's eyes are focused on something behind her. "Here comes trouble…"

Emma turns around. Killian Jones is making his way over to her. No, _swaggering_ over, like he owns the damned room. He wears a leather jacket, open. His shirt looks a size too small for him, it's so tight. He has the first few buttons undone, revealing a dark patch of chest hair.

"Swan," he greets, flashing her a charming smile.

"How's your… uh… face…?" She asks, a little sheepishly. Her eyes search for any signs of the assault. There's nothing, no bruising or a swollen cheek, not even any redness.

"As devilishly handsome as always. Thank you for asking." He runs a hand along his jaw. She follows with her eyes.

"Good."

"I thought I'd let you know that there aren't any hard feelings." He takes a step forward, bouncing on his feet. "I'm not angry at you for slapping me."

"So there's no evil revenge plot?" She's only half joking.

"'Course not, love. I can't say I'm one to hold a grudge."

"Right," is all she can say.

She waits for him to leave but he doesn't. Instead his heavy lined (seriously, she has never seen a man wear eyeliner before) eyes are on her face, and he bites his lip in thought, as if deciding to tell her something. She raises her eyebrows at him, silently urging him to continue. She doesn't want to be waiting all day.

"I thought I'd tell you something else as well." There it is.

"Oh?"

All laughter and arrogance drops from his face. He fixes her with a look, staring straight into her eyes, holding them. His eyes, though dark, are sincere. "I was hoping it'd be you," He murmurs, the words barely leaving his lips.

Then he's off, brushing past her to the door. The light scent of a cologne follows him. She's stunned for a moment. Graham's throaty chuckle brings her back into the present.

"What?" she demands, turning to him. "What's so funny?"

He's still laughing. "He said he's not one to hold a grudge."

" _And_?"

"Come on, let's go for that coffee." He pulls his oak coloured leather jacket over his shoulders and together they make their way out the door.

* * *

Later, they stand in line in the nearest coffee shop. It's small and cosy, all chocolate walls and puffy couches. Not to mention, very busy. It's hard to breathe, let alone move. Luckily, there is one two seat table at the back of the shop, just waiting to be claimed. Emma has her eyes on it. She's will fight to the death for it if she has to.

Graham smoothly pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans with a triumphant grin. "What would you like, Emma?"

"When I said about you paying…" she begins. "I didn't really mean…"

"Nonsense! What will it be?"

She regards him for a moment. The woman behind the counter watches them both expectantly. She looks like she might bite their head off if they take too long deciding, so Emma decides not to argue with Graham. "Cappuccino," she says quickly. "But hold the chocolate sprinkles."

"And I'll have a hot chocolate. Extra cream. Lots of sprinkles. Maybe even a few chocolate pieces, if you've got them." He passes the note over the counter and taps his fingers against the polished wood as he waits for the change.

"Chocolate pieces?"

"An unusual quirk that's stayed with me all these years," he tells her as the woman hands him the change. They're ushered to the end of the counter where they wait for their drinks. "I was adopted when I was young and the family who took me in - they were called the Wolfes - always made me hot chocolate with chocolate pieces to make it extra chocolate-y."

"You're an orphan?" Her face softens. She can feel it, the sudden connection. They've been through the same things. "I'm an orphan too." She doesn't tell him about her past, and how she spent most of her years in the system. She'll have to trust him a _hell_ of a lot more for her to mention that. The only people who know are David and Mary Margaret. Henry knows a few things, but not everything.

"Really?" His smile, though still kind, doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm sorry to hear that."

She shrugs it off with a light smile. "It's okay. I guess I just-"

"Graham Humbert?"

Both Graham and Emma turn around at the voice. Two teenage girls are staring at him with star-struck, heart-like eyes. One of them is holding a phone, shaking. The other seems too in awe to speak. It takes Emma a moment to work out what's happening, but then it clicks.

Fans.

"Indeed I am," he says. His smile is blindingly charming. "What can I do for you?"

"I-I was just wondering if we could have a picture? We love your show." She steps forward, eyes like saucers.

"'Course you can. You can have as many pictures as you'd like. Come on over here."

She approaches, feet shuffling against the floor, white and trembling. He wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders and she stares at it, as if it's turned blue or something. They both look over at the camera though the girl is reluctant; she can't take her eyes off him. A flash of smiles, a flash of light and then it's over.

He extends the same kindness to her friend, who's too dumbfounded to speak. When she's done, they say their thank yous and stumble backwards out the door, eyes still trained on him. By the time they've gone the drinks are ready.

Emma reaches for hers, slowly, replaying the last few minutes in her mind.

"What the hell was that?"

"Fans," he says as if that explains all.

He follows her over to the table she's had her eyes on. They sit down opposite each other with their drinks. Emma's in stunned silence, shaking her head.

"What?" he laughs.

"You're just acting like it's so normal."

"It _is_ normal." He takes a sip of his hot chocolate. "It happens all the time. The majority of them are really sweet, like those girls. Some are… only just bearable. But those are few and far between."

"And you just… deal with that?" She gives him a sceptical look.

"You'll have to deal with it soon. Especially since you're going to be Alexander's love interest. You're about to get a whole lot of attention."

Emma sips her cappuccino, weighing his words. She's not sure she likes the sound of that. She's always been a pretty private person. The thought of someone interrupting her during coffee kind of brushes her the wrong way. Still, Graham doesn't seem to mind it.

"It doesn't happen _all_ the time," Graham continues. "Sometimes people don't recognise me because they don't expect to see me. And sometimes…" His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Sometimes I can hear them whispering behind my back, wondering whether it's me. Other people tell me I look like Toby from Kings and Queens."

" _What_?" Then again, with the accent she can see why people might be a little reluctant to accept it's him.

"Incredible, isn't it?"

"Try crazy."

"I can't imagine what it's like for Killian." He blows out a low whistle. "Alexander is so popular."

"So tell me about Alexander… I mean Killian. Killian Jones." She wraps her hands around her coffee and leans forward in her seat.

"What would you like to know?"

"Anything. I like to… know people." More importantly, she likes to know who she's up against.

He scratches his beard, stretching back in his chair. "Killian Jones… let me see… He's alright. Friendly enough, but I wouldn't want to get on the bad side of him. Sometimes he can be a bit doom and gloom. I guess it goes with the dark aesthetic."

That's all good, but it's not exactly what Emma's after. "What about this feud?"

"Feud?"

"With him and Gold."

Graham laughs, shaking his head. "There's no feud. It's just the media stirring things up."

"Huh."

That's what she thought when Regina told her, but there's something in her, something telling her that's not quite true. She's always thought about being a bail bonds person. Maybe she could do some digging…

Or maybe she couldn't because this is Killian's private life and none of her business. She would be livid if someone decided to snoop around her and uncover secrets about her past. If it isn't the media making things up, she's sure Killian wouldn't want everyone to know about his feud with Gold.

Then again, she doesn't _know_ Killian. She's spoken to him about three times, and a few of those were in character. So… why is she so interested?

"You look lost in your thoughts there, Emma," Graham comments. That's when she realises.

"You laughed when Killian said he's not one to hold grudges."

He shrugs, but he's avoiding her gaze. "I shouldn't have said anything. There's nothing to tell," he says, scratching the back of his head. Is scratching a nervous tick for him? Nervous ticks are a telltale sign of fibbing.

"You're lying," she accuses.

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his hot chocolate. "Lying?"

"I have a… thing. I tell my son it's a superpower. I know when someone is lying."

He studies her through suspicious eyes. "I don't believe you."

"Don't believe me all you want. It doesn't take away that you _are_ lying." She shrugs and leans back in her seat, sipping her drink. "It's none of my business I guess. I was only curious."

There's a pause where they stare each other out. Graham's fingers twitch. Emma suppresses a smile.

"I shouldn't have said that Killian doesn't hold grudges," he says, carefully. "There's something between him and Gold, but you're right, it's none of your business. It's none of _my_ business either."

"What happened? Gold stole the part Killian wanted? Killian planned his endless revenge plot?"

"Not exactly…"

"Let me guess, he's in the _middle_ of his big revenge plot."

Graham shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "You know what? I shouldn't say anything. Will you forgive me if I don't say anything?"

He's uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, scratching his head _again_. Emma feels a pang of guilt. She doesn't want to make him uncomfortable, not when he's the only actor who's made any effort with her at all.

And he's right. Of course he's right. Killian and Gold's feud is none of her business. She should leave it it alone.

"I shouldn't have asked," she says. "Anyway, tell me about the rest of the cast."

She finds out a whole lot of vital information from him, one thing being the name of the other actors. She only knew the actors by the character names. At least now she won't accidentally address the actors as their characters, and make a fool out of herself in that respect.

She finally remembers to ask why Grumpy is called Grumpy. Graham laughs and tells her Grumpy isn't his real name. He's actually called Leroy, but he is _so_ grumpy, the nickname fits.

"Isn't he offended?" she asks.

"Nope," says Graham, "It's all in good humour. Grumpy actually isn't bad when you get to know him. He just has a lot of passion."

The more Emma talks to Graham, the more she likes him. She was right about him before, he is genuine. He doesn't say anything bad about anyone, even Killian Jones, though Emma gets the feeling that they're not the best of friends.

Emma leaves Graham in high spirits. They've swapped numbers, and made arrangements to meet up again before filming begins. She feels a lot better knowing someone.

* * *

The rest of the week is busy, busy, busy. She spends most of her time reading and learning scripts. When she's not, she's trudging into work for all sorts of reasons. Hair and makeup, rehearsals, that sort of thing.

Figuring out her costume is the most tedious of all. The first appointment only lasts half an hour. It's to see what the costume designers have created for her. The sketchbooks she's shown are full of scribbles flared with colour. The gowns are beautiful.

After that it's a matter of actually making the costumes. Measurements are taken; her height, her chest, her stomach, her shoe size. Not long after that, they're yanking fabrics over her head and wrapping them around her body. She slips in and out of shoes over and over again. They make her walk; up, down, to the side. Adjustments are made. They make her walk again. They stick her with pins more times than she can count. Through it all, she focuses on learning her script, practicing the words out loud.

"My name is Rose-"

Arms up. Fabric over. Arms down. Pins in place.

"-Sire."

Arms up. Fabric over. Arms down.

"I help my mother. She creates herbal remedies for the sick."

"You know…" comes a voice from behind her. "You're learning quicker than I do."

She turns to see one of the other actresses from the reading. Emma recognises her from her blonde-almost-white hair. She plays Elizabeth in the show, Alexander's sister, who takes a liking to Rose. She struggles to think of her name.

The woman leans against the wall, arms folded. She looks clean and composed against the mess of the room, which is covered in fabrics and half made costumes.

Emma doesn't really know what to say to that, so she just gives a slight shrug. "I guess I'm a fast learner."

They fall silent. Emma's very aware of the woman watching her, as more fabric is pinned in place.

"You're Emma, aren't you?," she says after a while. "My name's Elsa."

"You play Elizabeth," Emma says. She holds her hips as the costume people lace a corset, pulling the material tight against her skin. When she speaks again, her voice is a little breathless. "I'm pretty sure my son has a crush on you. You're his desktop wallpaper."

"Oh." Her cheeks flush pink.

"Don't tell him I told you. He'd be mortified."

"I won't." She takes a seat on one of the makeup chairs. "Anna- my sister, her daughter has a thing for Killian Jones."

Killian Jones? What's new there? "Doesn't half the country?"

"Something like that."

Someone throws some fabric over her shoulder. Another person measures fabric down the length of her skirt. It's hard to concentrate on Elsa when she's trying to concentrate on the costume designers.

Luckily, she doesn't have to concentrate on her for very long, as one of the other designers calls Elsa's name.

"I'll see you around, Emma," She says, giving her one last smile before she departs.

"See you."

She watches Elsa go, her white hair bouncing as she makes her way into one of the connecting rooms.

* * *

When Emma gets home, she's exhausted. All of her limbs feel heavy, and her feet ache. She's even struggling to catch her breath. If this how she feels after a costume fitting, she can't imagine how hard filming will be. She's already taken a look at the filming schedule. It's made of late nights and early mornings, but even that isn't set in stone. Apparently actors get called in all the time on their days off, to film bits and pieces of scenes or to make up lost time.

Henry runs her a bath. He even adds a mountain of bubbles, using at least half the bottle. Afterwards they settle on the sofa, sipping from hot chocolate mugs, watching the television. Emma loves the feeling of unwinding after a hard day. In her eyes, there's nothing better.

"I ran into Elsa today," she comments lightly. She's watching his reactions, trying to keep the smile from her face.

"You did?" His ears are slowly turning pink, spreading over to his face.

"She's really nice."

His face is pained, like he's experiencing an internal struggle. His fingers twitch, he shuffles on the spot, and his eyes dart around. A few times he opens his mouth to speak, but ends up closing it again. Then, finally, like a volcano about to burst…

"Mom, you have to tell me _everything_. What's it like? What are they like? Have they been nice to you? Who have you met? What about Killian? Mom, _please_." There's a raw excitement in his face.

She turns to him, no longer fighting her smile. "They're all really nice. Like I said, I've met Elsa. I had coffee with Graham and-"

"You had coffee with _Graham Humbert._ " His eyes are wide. It's like everything is just sinking in. "Whoa." He's silent for a moment, staring into nothing. And then, timidly: "Can you get me some… autographs?"

She laughs and ruffles his hair. "You can get them yourself, if you want. I'll have to arrange for you to meet them. I'm sure Graham would come over if I invited him."

"Mom." He takes a deep breath. "Oh my god, Mom." And another. "I think I'm going to throw up."

She laughs again. "This must be weird for you, huh?"

"You have _no idea."_

They talk well into the night about the cast. Henry asks her about almost every actor (most of whom she can't remember). He's especially interested in Elsa and Killian. Emma doesn't let on that she's going to be Killian's love interest. She doesn't want to weird the kid out.

They talk until Henry falls asleep on the sofa. He looks so peaceful, she doesn't want to move him. Instead, she swings his legs onto the sofa and removes his slippers. She finds a blanket in one of the closets and drapes it over his body. Carefully, she places a few pillows under his head. He doesn't even stir.

When he first came back into her life, he was only eleven, and tiny. He was notorious for falling asleep on the sofa. Back then, she used to scoop him up and carry him to bed. It was times like that she wished she hadn't gave him up. She thinks of how many years she could have spent holding him in her arms, watching him sleep, and brushing the hair off his face. When he was younger, he looked like Neal. Now, she's beginning to see herself in him, as he transforms into a young man.

On the way out, Emma turns the light off, and leaves him to rest. She knows they'll both sleep peacefully tonight.


	5. Chapter 5

"You are going to be fine."

Emma looks over at David in the driver's seat. It's the first day of filming and it's five o'clock in the morning. Though she's assured him she's _not_ a child and she _can_ go on her own, he insisted on coming with her. He told her firmly that he wanted to support her on her first day.

So now they sit in the car, waiting and watching the dreary sky above them threatening rain. It's not unlike that fateful day of the callbacks.

"I know," she says. It doesn't stop her nerves. She wishes she could just flip a switch and turn off her feelings. She likes a clear head. She _needs_ a clear head.

"Go and smash it."

He gives her one of those wide, dad smiles and pats her shoulder. Returning his smile, she plants a kiss on his cheek. "Give my love to Mary Margaret," she tells him before she jumps out the car and slams the door.

She waves as he pulls out the car park, and drives off.

Then she's alone.

The car park is next to a field, which stretches for miles and is littered with all sorts of vehicles and shiny white trailers. Emma can make out a castle in the distance, next to a forest. Graham told her that they shoot a lot of their hallway and exterior scenes in the castle, but most of the interior scenes are filmed in a studio only a few hours from here. A lot of the time the actors leave for the studio from here. They're always back and forth like yoyos.

She strolls over to the trailers and comes to a standstill in front of one, hands on her hips as she takes in her surroundings. They're a lot bigger up close, more like small houses.

"Emma!"

Mulan, who she met at the auditions, runs over to her. She's flustered, all red cheeks. Wisps of dark hair flow in every direction. Emma suspects she's been running around all day.

"Mulan, hey," she says, tearing her eyes away from the trailer.

Her irritated tone tells her that yes, she _has_ been running round all day. "Come with me. I'll take you to where you need to be."

Emma follows her in and out the maze of trailers. It's been raining already because the grass is squeaky and her boots sink in the mud. She struggles to catch up with Mulan but she manages, even if she is slipping and sliding all over, gasping for breath. If today has told her anything so far, it's that she needs to get in shape. Too many job searches and doughnuts have taken their toll on her.

Eventually they reach their destination, the second from last trailer.

"There you go. Hair and makeup." For the first time, Mulan smiles. "Enjoy your first day." And then she's gone, whirling off in the other direction, probably to find another poor, lost soul.

Emma trudges up the metal steps, holding onto the railing as she stamps her boots, leaving a trail of mud. Better to leave a trail outside rather than inside. She doesn't bother knocking on the already ajar door. Instead she takes a step inside, only to freeze in the doorway, eyes widening in wonder. It's _definitely_ like a small house, with chairs and mirrors and trays upon trays of beauty products.

"Swan!" Killian grins as soon as he catches her reflection in the mirror. "C'mon in."

He's sat on one of the chairs, dressed casually in jeans. A woman is curling his hair with hot tongs. Steam floats up into the air and disappears.

He's not the only one in the room. Elsa is here too, who offers her a friendly wave. So are Robin, Will and a few other people. She cranes her neck to see if she can see Graham, but he doesn't seem to be about. That's a shame. She was hoping to find out more information from him.

A small woman with bright red hair and an equally bright smile approaches her. "Hi Emma, I'm Ariel." Her teeth are like perfect white pearls. "I'm one of the stylists. I was supposed to see you at the costume fitting, but I couldn't make it."

"It's nice to meet you," she says with a small smile.

"Come on, sit down."

She's led to a seat in between Killian and Elsa. She sits, shoulders tense, hands braced on the arms of the chair. The black leather drowns her. Everything is all too… unfamiliar and she doesn't like it. She thinks she should be used to the unfamiliar now after being carted from foster family to foster family, or after those months she spent couch sharing and living on the streets.

"Relax, Emma," Ariel says. "You're going to be a few hours yet." Emma does her best to loosen up, sinking back into her chair. She takes a deep breath through her mouth and out her nose. "So I'm gonna start with your make up, okay?"

"Okay."

"I'll keep you updated. But follow my instructions."

"Sure thing."

She watches Ariel prepare in the mirror. She gathers different eyeshadow pallets and mixes foundation colours. She picks powder from the world's biggest blush collection.

The makeup aspect of it isn't so bad. She closes her eyes for the majority of it, which is good because they're already stinging from exhaustion. It takes a whole hour. Killian and Elsa chat about their scenes, their conversation quiet yet distracting. She hopes they won't talk to her much. She already feels out of her depth as it is.

When Ariel asks her to open her eyes, Emma can hardly believe it. Despite an hour of makeup, she looks like she isn't wearing any at all. If her skin wasn't smoother or if her eyes didn't pop, she would have complained about time wasting. She makes a mental note to learn how to do this.

Onto hair, Ariel curls it with hot tongs. Emma has so much, it takes a good hour and a half. Ariel explains that if there was a lot of makeup to do she would have used rollers, but an hour isn't long enough for the curls to set. Once she's finished, she brushes all the hair out and spruces it up with a comb, so Emma appears a little more worse for wear. She separates half of it and clips the top layer of hair at the back of her head. A few front curls remain to frame her face. When they're done, Emma feels exhausted, and she's not even the one doing the work.

After that, she's moved to costume. Elsa and Killian left for costume halfway through Emma's hair, but when she gets to the trailer they're nowhere to be seen.

Costume is a breeze compared to hair and makeup. All she has to do is pull a lilac gown over her head, step into some flat shoes and then she's done. But it's not what she was worried about anyway. That's the next part.

Mulan finds her on the way to set.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be on set in ten!" she yells, rushing over.

"That's where I'm going."

"Follow me. I know a shortcut."

They cut through some trailers and Mulan is soon leading her onto set. Cast and crew are stood around talking. Cables litter the clearing, and cameras are being trailed left, right and centre. She tries not to trip over the wires but it's hard to do with the dress. She can't even make out her feet, let alone the wires which hide beneath her dress.

"You're over there," Mulan says, pointing towards the entrance of the castle. A bunch of actors are chatting away, including Elsa and Killian.

She mumbles her thanks, and Mulan disappears, just like she did before makeup.

"Swan!" Killian calls, for the second time today.

"Emma, hi," says Elsa with a shy smile.

They're both dressed in costume. Elsa wears a royal blue dress, floor sweeping and silky. A cobweb of embroidery climbs up the sleeves and along the hem. Her silver hair is styled into lots of complicated plaits. She must wear extensions because her hair isn't down to her waist normally.

Killian wears armour, silver and glittering in the sun. Dirt (or at least makeup made to look like dirt) is smudged across his face and costume. His hair is styled into a mess of dark waves. It sticks up in every direction.

This is how Rose meets him - all muddy and bloody from battle. She accidentally runs in front of his horse, causing a stir. Then she apologises in front of everyone. Alexander really humiliates her. It's a wonder they're going to fall for each other.

Elsa's character - Elizabeth - sticks up for Rose, when she comes to greet him after battle. She's Alexander's sister and the kindest of the royal family

"How's your first day been, Emma?" Elsa asks.

"Hectic," says Emma, adjusting the waist of her costume. Even though it's just a maid's dress, it's heavy, a weight on her hips.

"You'll get used to it. It's a lot of fun when you get to know the rest of the cast, isn't it Killan?"

"Aye."

"It can be a bit hard at first, not knowing anyone," Elsa continues. "But we're all nice. We don't bite."

"Unless the lady insists," adds Killian, throwing a dark look in Emma's direction. "Then I'll happily oblige."

Emma can't keep the surprise from her face, mouth falling open a little, eyebrows flying up. He's flirting with her. Shamelessly. Or maybe _at_ her, since she's not one to flirt back.

"Ignore him," says Elsa, rolling her eyes. "He's like this with everyone."

Of course. _Of course_ he is. She could tell from the moment she met him. From the way he kissed her hand instead of shaking it. She's already clinched him as someone she needs to stay away from, at least on a personal level.

"Nervous, love?" Killian asks her. His tone is genuine.

"Nope," says Emma.

She's not sure why she lies. Perhaps it's because she doesn't want to seem weak. It's stupid to be nervous. She's done television acting before. True, not on this scale, but enough to know what it's like.

"You're a tough lass. Most people I ask are nervous."

"I'm not most people."

His lips twitch, and he regards her with a curious expression. "You're certainly not."

She doesn't know what to say to that, but she's saved by Grumpy who stalks over to them, shouting notes about how he wants the scene to go.

They rehearse a few times, from when Alexander gets off the horse. It all goes fine; Emma remembers her lines and the camera blocking. Grumpy gives them a few tips. He wants Killian to be angrier at her for disrupting his horse, so the characters are in disagreement from the beginning.

After that, it's filming time.

She's painfully aware of the cameras all around, but she forces them out of her mind. Her mouth is suddenly dry. All she can think of is _water_ and how a quick sip will make her tongue feel less thick.

"What do you think you're doing?" Killian demands, the horse abandoned as he strides over to her. His voice is harsher as Alexander.

Emma gives her best shocked face. "It's hardly my fault you-"

He yanks his helmet from his head and throws it across the set. It lands on the dusty concrete with a metal clang.

"- were right in front of me. I didn't even see you until it was too late."

"Enough." He waves her away. "I don't want your excuses."

"They're not excuses."

"Huh."

He storms off towards the castle, but Emma follows him, forgetting to pick up her skirts as she walks behind him. "Hey that's _rude."_ He doesn't answer. " _Hey."_ Still, nothing. "Why don't you-"

She stands on her dress. She doesn't know what's worse, the drawn out ripping sound or the way she loses her balance and crashes to the floor. She places her hands out to stop herself, but the most she does is scrape her skin on the concrete. The shock stops the pain for a moment or two as her brain tries to determine what happened. Then the pain comes; her stinging hands, the way her whole body is throbbing with the impact.

Then, the humiliation as she realises everyone is laughing at her.

She shouldn't blame them. She knows a giggle might have escaped her if it was some other person, and afterwards she wouldn't think anything of it. It's just a natural reaction. But it's an embarrassing one, especially on the day she wants to impress her co-workers, not give them a reason to think she's a fool.

"Pack it in," Killian snaps. He's not laughing. He runs over to her, holding a hand out to help her up. Then, softer, "You alright there, love?"

She takes his hand, but avoids his eyes, voice cold when she says:

"I'm fine."

It's a strange feeling - to have misjudged someone - and truthfully, Emma never likes to learn she's misjudged anyone whether it be good or bad. She's always prided herself on her instincts. She _knows_ people. Regina always says she should go into the police force or something along those lines because she could spot the liars, the thieves and the criminals without batting an eyelid.

The thing is Killian _may_ be charming, witty and suave, but Emma had him pegged as someone who _would_ laugh if she embarrassed herself like this. Yet, his concerned eyes hold no hint of amusement, especially not when he says, "Your dress."

Her eyes fly down to the torn, muddy material and her face burns. _Way to go, Emma Swan_. Not only has she humiliated herself in front of the entire cast, but she's also destroyed her costume. She can't think of anything worse to happen on a first day. Why couldn't it just go smoothly? For once?

"Come on, I'll take you back to hair and makeup," says Killian.

She inspects her stinging hands. "I can go on my own."

"C'mon, let me-"

"I don't need your help."

The thought of being _escorted_ off set by one of the other actors makes her cringe. She doesn't want to be babied. She can do this. On her own. Without sparing another glance in his direction, she tears off to hair and makeup.

When Ariel sees her, she bites her lip and shakes her head. "What have you done?"

"Something stupid," huffs Emma as she falls back down onto the chair.

"Fell over, huh?" comes another voice. It's Graham. She hadn't even noticed he was in the other chair, too preoccupied with her own emotions.

"Yeah," she sighs.

"Your hands are red raw."

And stinging like hell. "They'll be fine with some cold water."

Before she can stop her, Ariel disappears and returns with an ice cold cloth. She hands it to Emma who places the material on her palms and sighs in blissful relief.

"You know…" says Ariel as she pins Emma's face off her face. "Graham forgot most of his lines on his first day."

Emma's eyes flicker over to Graham. "You're kidding."

"Nope," he says with a sigh. "Completely embarrassed myself. Messed up the whole of the filming schedule."

Ariel chimes a musical laugh. "Grumpy shouted at you. Didn't you cry?"

"Almost."

Emma snorts.

Ariel and Graham continue to tell her embarrassing stories about the rest of the cast. Elsa _always_ messes up her lines, Will keeps accidentally calling everyone by their real names instead of their character names. On Robin's first day, he got caught moaning about how moody Grumpy is _by_ Grumpy. Graham says everyone was in hysterics at that. As for Killian? Well he's just damn _perfect_ , isn't he? Though Ariel does mention that Robin and Will like to play pranks on him. They've switched his shaving cream with toothpaste more than once. Not that Killian shaves much, just once in a blue moon.

They make her feel better. She _can_ do this. Everyone has off days and this is just one of those days. All she has to do is go out there and show them what she can do because she is _good_ at what she does, she always has been.

And show them, she does.


	6. Chapter 6

As the weeks pass, Emma begins to get used to filming. She gets used to waking up at four in the morning to swallowing darkness. She knows now that the best way to chase sleep from her mind is to drag herself from her bed and into the shower. An icy spurt of water is enough to send anyone into overdrive.

She's used to the layers upon layers of makeup, the heavy costumes, and the sudden mood swings of the director. She's seen firsthand why everyone calls Leroy Grumpy.

That's not to say it isn't taking its toll on her. Even after her freezing shower and nine cups of coffee, she can't wake herself up completely. A few times she falls asleep in the makeup chair while Ariel is doing her hair. The first time it happens, Emma is mortified. Ariel shrugs and smiles. She says she doesn't mind. Apparently Emma's not the first.

So the next time it happens, Emma isn't _too_ embarrassed. Or the time after that. It becomes part of her daily routine; early mornings, late nights, naps in between.

She doesn't realise that Killian has taken a picture until Elsa shows it to her on his Instagram page (something Emma does _not_ and will _never_ own). In the picture, she's asleep on the chair, eyes closed, head lolling to one side. A pale waterfall of hair falls over her face. The caption reads, 'One cute co-star'. Elsa spends the rest of the morning reading out the comments from the fans - 'Oh my God', 'so cute', 'Emma is so cute', 'she's gonna be amazing', 'I think I'm shipping it?.'

"What does shipping mean?"

Elsa laughs. "I don't think you're ready. Ask me in a few months."

Emma makes a mental note to Google it later. But in truth, she'll completely forget. From what she's gathered, it's a phrase passed between people on the internet. No, not people.

Fans.

The whole fan side of everything makes her feel a little bit stupid. Usually, Emma's pretty internet savvy. When she was younger, she was good at hacking things and getting into different websites. She could get into anyone's MySpace or Facebook. As the years went by, she kind of lost her touch a little. She doesn't keep up with Instagram or Twitter or any of it really. From what the other actors have said, it's a great way to connect with the fans, but it has its downsides. The other actors have already warned her about typing her own name into Google. She shouldn't do it. Not under any circumstances.

Emma doesn't bother confronting Killian about the picture, even though she has plenty of chances to.

She actually finds herself enjoying his company. He can be quite funny and charming when he wants to be. If Emma messes up her lines, he's patient. He assures her everyone does it and there's no need to be frustrated. He's a people person. He knows which strings to pull and he can get almost anyone to do what he wants.

He's even managing to charm _her_ , she realises. As the first month and a half passes, she finds herself warming to him. The ice which encases her heart is slowly but surely melting, like it did with David and Mary Margaret. She even manages to forget all about his thing with Gold. She almost feels bad about the first day of filming, when he tried to help her and she so quickly ignored him.

Then he does something that surprises her, and earns him a space in her good books. He makes her feel even more welcome than he already has.

She's sat on set, reading one of Henry's stories. She always used to make sure she had enough time to read her kid's stories, but she's been so busy recently, she hasn't had time. This one's important, though. He's hoping to get it published one day. Maybe he will. She has every faith in her son and his dreams.

She's still reading when a shadow stands over her, blocking out the light. She knows it's Killian before she even glances up.

"Hello, Swan," he says, with one of those easy smiles, as he lowers himself into the chair beside her. "I have a proposition for you."

She closes Henry's manuscript, giving him her attention. "Shoot." Like her, he's dressed in costume. Leather pants and a white, loose fitting shirt.

His answering smile is as charming as it is warming. "I'm hosting a cast party tomorrow night. We're going to watch the first episode air."

"A party, huh?" She raises her eyebrows. She hasn't been to a party for a while. After Henry came into her life she knocked the partying on the head. Even before Henry she used partying and drink as a way to forget, not necessarily to have fun. She's always been kind of a loner, so she's never been to a party with friends. Well, apart from one. A girl named Lily. But she doesn't want to think about Lily right now. Or ever.

"I say 'party' but alas, I tell a lie. Just a few people." He leans forward, resting his arm on the table. His voice becomes a low murmur. "I'd very much like it if you could make it."

"I don't know…"

The thing is, she doesn't really want to go to a party. She wants to stay at home and watch her first episode with Henry, her family. He's been twittering nonstop about it all week, excitedly telling her exactly how many days, hours and minutes there are until the episode airs. It's all surreal to him, but not as much as it is to her. She wants to watch it with him to ground herself. He keeps her right.

"C'mon, Swan." That murmur again. He's moving closer, his eyes dropping down to the table. She gets the feeling that this is what buys him a lot of things; his pretty face and his hypnotising voice.

"Sorry, Killian. I want to watch it with my son."

Then again, Henry _has_ already said to her that the cast tend to watch the episode together, and if that's the case, she might as well. He told her it would be a good chance to make friends, and to get to know the actors better, especially people she hasn't worked with too much. He's always has a wise head on his shoulders, that one.

"I'm sure your boy won't mind if you miss one, little episode…"

"The first episode. _My_ first episode."

"Ah, your first episode." Then he leans back, nodding. That low, seductive voice has gone. "Perfectly understandable. I admit, I rather envy your boy here. It would have been nice to see your face when you realise how brilliant you are."

"Brilliant?" She can't stop her eyes from narrowing. What's his game?

"Aye. Brilliant. Truly talented." There isn't a hint of irony or teasing on his face, or in his voice. If she didn't know any better, she would say he's being genuine. _I was hoping it would be you._ His words echo through her mind. Had he? Had he really hoped?

"Thank you?"

"Here's the thing, Swan. I was going to use this opportunity to get to know you better."

She folds her arms, leaning back in her chair. "Huh."

"I don't know you at all and I truly believe that-" He looks at her through his eyelashes "- we have a lot in common, you and I."

"Do we now?"

"Aye. I intended to spend tomorrow night entirely with you. But if not, I'd like to pick another day to spend with you."

She considers this for a moment. As much as she hates people 'getting to know' her, he has a point. They should probably try and get on since they're going to be working twenty four seven with each other. They haven't had too many scenes yet, but they will. Belle's already hinted at the budding romance within her stage directions.

The way she sees it, she has a choice. She can either go to this cast party with _other_ people and talk to Killian there, or she can take him up on his other suggestion and go on some sort of date, which she doesn't want to do. Plus, they don't have to get to know each other too much. They can swap funny stories, not gruesome pasts.

And Henry wouldn't be _too_ disappointed, would he?

"Alright, fine." she says after a pause.

"What, really?"

"Sure."

"Excellent." His answering smile is beaming. "It starts at seven. If you give me your number, I can text you the details."

They swap numbers. It's awkward and clumsy but they get there in the end. She catches a glimpse of his phone screen. He's listed her under 'Swan', not Emma, or even Emma Swan.

"I'll see you tomorrow." And then he's off.

As soon as he's gone she finds Graham on set. A few weeks ago they already filmed an initial scene, but they have a few more to do. They're going to make the characters close friends, which she's glad about because she genuinely likes working with Graham. Emma has an inkling that they're going to give Toby feelings for Rose as well, but she's not entirely sure of that.

In between rehearsals she subtly tries to ask him if he's going to Killian's tomorrow night, only it's not very subtle because subtlety has never been Emma Swan's speciality.

"Oh. That?" Graham says, frowning a little. "I was invited, but I'm not sure I want to go. Are you going?"

"Maybe…" Emma says, feeling very much like a teenage girl debating whether to go to a friend's sleepover.

"If you go, I'll go," says Graham.

"I'll go then."

Yes, she _definitely_ sounds like a teenage girl. She has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Then again, it's nice to know Graham will be there. She only really knows Elsa and Killian but at the same time, she doesn't really know them at all.

"Then I'll go." He gives her a wolfish grin.

"ROLLING IN TEN," comes Grumpy's voice, and casual conversation is lost as rehearsal and makeup touches replace it.

The scene goes swimmingly. She doesn't make any mistakes, or trip over her words. She's finally beginning to get used to the crew and other actors watching her. She knew she would. It was only a matter of time.

It's easy to act with Graham. Natural. With Killian, she's terrified of making a mistake. She isn't exactly sure why, but she's very aware of how she wants him to see her. Strong. Good at what she does. With Graham, she doesn't mind how he sees her. There's an immediate friendship there.

* * *

When Emma gets in, she's exhausted. Going to the party seems like a chore, but at the same time she doesn't want to miss it. She wants to see the first episode in the company of the other actors. She can imagine the conversations, and them teasing each other when their scenes come on.

She wolfs down a microwave lasagne and then after that, she gets ready. She debates one of her dresses, but in the end goes with jeans and a pretty shirt. Afterwards, she spruces up her makeup and adds a few curls to her hair. She's ready by half six.

Thinking she'll be drinking, Emma ditches the bug and gets a cab. Killian's house is within fifteen minutes of driving distance.

Her mouth falls open as the cab whines to a stop on the pavement. The house is _huge._ It's not like a house at all, more like a mansion. She guesses seven bedrooms and four bathrooms at a glance. She hands over the money, unable to tear her eyes away from the house.

"You've got a pretty rich friend," the cab driver comments as he hands over her change.

"I guess I have," says Emma. "Thanks for the ride."

She hastily leaves the cab before he can work out exactly _whose_ house it is and demand an autograph or something.

Her heels click against the concrete as she makes her way down the drive and up the steps. She's pretty sure she could fit the entirety of her house in his drive. One sleek, expensive looking car doesn't even take up a third of the drive.

Music becomes louder and louder as she approaches the house.

After a moment's hesitation, Emma presses the doorbell. The porch seems to envelope her. She looks up at the archway as she waits.

The door swings open.

Warmth and music is unleashed.

"Emma!"

The person at the door isn't Killian. Instead, it's Elsa. She too is in jeans and a shirt. She wears a warm smile, as she ushers her inside. Emma wants to ask where Killian is, but at the same time she doesn't. Luckily, Elsa answers her unspoken question.

"Killian put me on door duty," says Elsa, rolling her eyes.

"Lucky you." Emma follows her inside.

There's a _lot_ more people than she had anticipated. It's clear that Killian's idea of "a few people" is completely different to hers. There's people everywhere she looks, some dancing, some shouting over the music, some staring, and all drinking. She wonders how on _earth_ they're supposed to watch an episode over all the noise.

"I thought it was a cast party?" she says, dodging out the way of drinks.

"It is. But everyone has to bring a plus one. And then _they_ have to bring a plus one."

They do? "Huh." If she had known that, she might have brought Mary Margaret. When Emma rang her to tell her about the first episode, her friend couldn't hold in her excitement.

"Anyway, I have to go back to the door. Have fun!" Elsa disappears into the crowd.

Emma stands there for a moment, unsure what to do with herself. Her gut is starting to tell her that this was a mistake. She should be at home, getting ready to watch the episode. She doesn't really want to watch it with all these _people_.

What she _does_ want to do is find Killian Jones, but she doesn't know where to start. He said he wanted to get to know her so where is he? Where's better to get to know someone than at a party? Maybe once she's had a drink, she'll loosen up a little.

"Emma!"

Emma recognises Graham's voice before she turns. He looks just as lost as she feels. He's awkwardly holding two drinks.

"I didn't know what to get you, so I just got you this," he shouts, over the music.

She takes it and takes a sip. Vodka and coke. It's alright, but it's not what she would have gone for. Then again, she's not really in the drinking mood. Usually, she loves a good drink, especially shots, but not today.

"Have you seen Killian?" she asks right into his ear.

"Not yet."

"I was thinking of going to look for him, actually. I was going to thank him for inviting me."

"I'll come with you."

They shuffle through crowds of people (seriously, did he invite everyone he saw) and search through a number of rooms. They try the kitchen first. There's no Killian, but there's Ariel, who waves at them when she spots them, and Emma waves back. The living room comes next. He's not there. They search every room, even the upstairs, but there's nothing. It's not until they're transitioning through the hallway that Emma finds him.

He tumbles out the closet under the stairs, a young woman in a tight, blue dress following him. They're giggling like a pair of teenagers, hair sticking out in all directions, clothes rumpled. Drunk.

He stumbles straight into Emma, his drink slopping down her shirt. She gasps, pulling it away from her skin. The scent of alcohol reaches her nose. _Great._ Now she smells like a bar.

"Whoa there, sorry lo- Swan!"

"Killian," she says. Her eyes are drawn to the young girl in the dress. So he likes them blonde, then. Not to mention young, and… full of cleavage.

He immediately sobers, though his eyes blink slowly. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you. Forgive me."

She doesn't feel very forgiving. In fact, she feels a little irritated. An irritation that wasn't there two seconds ago. What does she even have to be angry about? Maybe she's irritated because she was _just_ starting to warm to him, but now all her suspicions are confirmed.

Killian is a complete and utter manipulator. He has no intention of 'getting to know her better', as he so put.

"Maybe you should watch where you're going." Her voice is colder than she intends.

"You're right." He holds his hands up, swaying on the spot slightly.

There are lipstick marks all the way down his neck. It only increases her irritation.

"Killian," comes the blonde's voice. She clings to his arm, looking up at him with doe eyes. "Maybe we should go somewhere more… private." She giggles.

Emma and Graham exchange glances. She wants to get out of there. Now. This is too awkward and embarrassing, especially when Emma was the one looking for _him._

"We'll leave you too it, then," says Graham, with a forced smile. "C'mon Emma."

They both turn around and start walking into the crowds. If Killian calls her back, she doesn't hear. It's probably for the best.

Graham suggests getting a drink and heading into one of the many rooms to watch the episode. Emma, however, doesn't want to be here anymore. She feels a little stupid. She can't _believe_ that she thought Killian inviting her meant she was starting to become his friend, that it was a way to welcome her. She knew what he was all along. How could she have thought any different?

He probably leads women into his bed with those charming smiles, and sparkly blue eyes, and never speaks to them again. She imagines hundreds of women sat by the phone, hugging a pillow, waiting for him to call. She will certainly never be one of those women.

"Listen, I think I'm just gonna head home," says Emma after a moment of standing there in silence. "This is crap. And I need to change my shirt." It's uncomfortably clinging to her.

Graham proposes they watch the episode together, but Emma just wants to be left alone. They share a cab, which drops Emma off first. She gives him a wave and tells him she'll see him in the morning.

There are a few scripts waiting for her when she gets in. She almost trips over them in the darkness, cursing and mumbling about Henry leaving his stuff all over the place.

When she turns the light on, she sees them for what they are. Kicking her heels off, she stumbles into the living room, scripts under arm. For the first time, she ignores them, dropping them on the table. Then she sinks down onto the sofa. There's an unwelcome presence. Silence.

Usually, she doesn't mind being alone, but right here, right now, it leaves her with a feeling of emptiness. And at the same time, longing. The first episode is airing tonight. _Her_ first episode. Something she, and everyone else in her life, should be proud of.

So why is she alone?

The people who _should_ be here aren't here. Henry's at Regina's, thanks to Emma's misjudgements. If she hadn't gone to Killian's party, he'd be here and they would be getting ready to watch it together. A weight settles in her chest.

She told Graham she wanted to be alone, but that isn't exactly true. She just wants to be with someone familiar, someone who will be proud of her whatever she does. Her family. She stays sat there for a few minutes more before she makes her mind up, and calls Mary Margaret.

Fifteen minutes later, Emma is leading her friend into the living room, and taking her coat.

"David isn't with you?" Emma asks.

"He wanted to come but I told him to leave it tonight," she explains, watching Emma through critical eyes. "It sounded like you needed some girl time. Someone to talk to."

Emma can't hide anything from her. "You're right."

"Take a seat. I'll fix you some hot chocolate."

She does as she's told, and sits at the kitchen table. She chats as Mary Margaret makes her hot chocolate in her own home, just the way she likes it. Emma tells her all about the past few weeks filming, and how genuinely nice everyone has been. Then she moves onto Killian. She tells her about how he can be the most charming person in the whole world, but it's just a ploy, to charm people into doing what he wants.

"So he's a bit of a ladies' man, then?" Mary Margaret asks, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. Her tongue darts out to catch some cream off her lip.

"More than that," Emma mumbles, blowing on her own drink. A few spots of cream fly across the table.

"And you're… jealous?"

"What? Jealous?" Emma's eyes widen. "Of course not." How could she be?

Mary Margaret studies Emma with motherly eyes over her drink. "Being jealous is a perfectly acceptable response."

"I guess but I hardly know the guy. I mean, c'mon. Tonight just proves how much I _don't_ know him."

"I don't think you're jealous because you're attracted to him," she says, after a moment of thought. "Or because you know him. I just think it's because he made you feel welcome, y'know? He was kind. Charming. Funny, by the sounds of it. We all cling to people like that in unfamiliar places - it's only natural."

"Where are you going with this?"

"Think about it. When you see this type of behaviour, you expect that type of behaviour all the time. So tonight, when you saw him for what he was, it shocked you. Because instead of being the perfectly charming man you're used to, he decided to charm someone else. Even though _he_ invited _you._ Do you see?"

Emma takes a sip of her chocolate, letting her words sink in. It makes sense, and Mary Margaret has always been the voice of reason. "You're right."

"If Graham had done the same thing, I'm sure you would have been equally as annoyed." Then, a mischievous smile tugs at her lips. "I have to say, I'm disappointed in Killian. He's my favourite character on the show. I was hoping he'd have a nice personality to match that attractive face."

There's a pause. Emma sets her expression. "He's not that attractive," she says. It's true. If she looks at him with one eye closed, and squints, it looks like he has two noses. And _that's_ not attractive at all.

Mary Margaret giggles like a schoolgirl. "Are you blind, Emma Swan? He's a sexy, sexy, sexy man."

"I'll make sure to tell him next time I see him." She rolls her eyes.

"I can't say that in front of David. He gets jealous. He says Killian looks like a pirate."

Emma snorts. "A pirate?"

"I know, right? He really must be beautiful if David can't find any other insults than calling him a pirate."

That makes them both laugh. The laughter immediately brightens Emma's mood.

At nine, they switch on the television and curl up on the sofa to watch the episode. Emma has to say, she's nervous. She's only seen herself on TV once (for fifteen minutes in that soap opera) and that was the strangest experience of her entire life.

As the theme tune sounds, Emma's nerves increase. She can't believe she's about to watch _Kings and Queens_ because _she_ is in it. One of the biggest television shows going. The episode follows her in the first few minutes. It shows her home being destroyed, and Emma crying as flames surround her. Rose and her mother are dragged in front of the king, forced to beg for their lives, and then the king offers them a place at the castle.

It's so strange. So, so strange. The woman on the screen _is_ Emma, but at the same time, it's a different person. The makeup and the costume have completely transformed her. It's amazing.

"You're good," Mary Margaret tells her half way through, eyes wide in awe. "You're _really_ good."

Emma doesn't say anything, but she can't keep the smile from her face. They watch her first scene with Killian, which Mary Margaret has a little squeal at. Despite everything Emma's told her about Killian, he's still her favourite actor.

At the end of the episode, she claps. There's a huge smile on her face, as she pulls Emma into a bone breaking hug. "Emma," she sighs, rocking her a little. "I'm so proud of you."

Emma rubs her back, embarrassed at the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away. "Thank you."

Mary Margaret moves back and holds Emma at arm's length, looking into her face. "You're just as good as any of them. You have no need to feel out of place."

Her comment instills a confidence Emma hasn't had the past few weeks of filming. She's right. Emma _was_ good in that episode. Emma can act. She's always been able to act.

Mary Margaret leaves not long after midnight. Even though Emma has an early start tomorrow, she can't seem to switch her brain off. The episode keeps running through her head. Killian keeps running through her head. She tosses and turns, kicking off sheets that stick to her, and combing her hair back from her face.

When it gets to two AM, she knows there's no point trying to sleep if sleep won't come. Instead, she gets out of bed and makes a coffee. The scripts she dropped onto the kitchen table earlier in the night catch her eye.

She reads them. She can't help herself. They're the last three scripts, leading right up to a mid season finale. Emma's surprised to get them so soon, but Belle has left a note on the scripts saying she managed to finish them _way_ before schedule.

She reads to the end, to the very last scene of the finale. She has to re-read the last scene, just to make sure her mind isn't playing tricks on her.

There's a kiss. A kiss between Alexander and Rose.

A kiss between Emma and Killian.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Did I mention this is a slooooow burn?**


	7. Chapter 7

Emma makes it into the studio at 7 AM sharp.

She looks _awful._ She didn't bother with any makeup this morning. There's no point - they'd just wipe it off and reapply it anyway. A few times she's watched sorrowfully as Ariel erased all traces of it from her face, thinking, _what a waste of makeup._

Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, pale strands spiraling all over her face. Red rims her eyes, thanks to a sleepless night, complementing the dark shadows underneath them.

That said, there's nothing Ariel can't fix. She has Emma back to her usual self in no time.

Emma feels nothing but relief when she stares in the mirror, and sees that she looks more like herself, more human. Still, makeup can't stop exhaustion, only hide it, so she ends up falling asleep _again_. It's not her fault they make those chairs so damn comfy.

Emma and Killian have a _hell_ of a lot of scenes to shoot in the next few weeks. The characters need to be brought together. They need an actual friendship, rather than the love-hate relationship they're suffering through now. Like David said, the audience has to fall in love with the idea of the characters together first, before they actually end up together. A bigger build up is better. It creates more tension for the kiss.

The kiss.

She _really_ doesn't know how to feel about that. She tries to imagine Killian kissing her. She can see his hands on the sides of her face, gently stroking her neck, and his lips softly nipping at hers. The images are strange to her, and so she pushes them as far from her mind as possible.

From the outset, it's clear they're setting the kiss up. There's a lot of lingering looks and accidental touches. Alexander is learning how to be kind to servants, Rose especially. Despite their indifference for each other, it's clear they have something special going on here. A connection.

Emma reminds herself of this as she flicks through the script. She's sat just off set, next to Alexander's chamber, where the scene - a long awaited apology - will be set. Even though they're not due to start filming for another hour, members of the crew dart about the set, rearranging vases and fluffing up red, velvet pillows.

She's just reached the end of the scene, when a shadow casts over her, blocking out the light. Of _course_ it's Killian. Why does he always do that? He towers above her, arms by his sides, waiting for her to look up. She does, raising an eyebrow in question. He's in costume.

"May I?" He asks, gesturing to the seat next to her with his hand.

Emma's already decided on how she's going to act with him. She needs to keep a professional head. A fallout would not be the best thing right now. Not when they're supposed to be very in love very soon.

"Go ahead," she says, forcing a smile. She hopes it looks natural. After all, she is an actress.

The metal chair scrapes against the floor as he pulls it out from under the table, and sits down. Emma returns to reading the scripts. Even though she's read the scene, she reads it again, eyes scanning the lines. There isn't any harm in being extra sure on what she's supposed to be doing.

"Reminding yourself of the lines?" he asks. His eyes are on her. She can feel it.

"Uhuh," is all she says.

"It's going to be a good one."

She doesn't even look up. "Hopefully." Her fingertips glide smoothly over to the paper, as she curls a page over.

"Swan?"

There's a woosh of paper before she answers. "Mm?"

Killian pauses, long enough for her resolve to crumble and for her glance up into his face. It's swift, and he doesn't catch it. He seems too lost in his own thoughts, lips turned downward as he stares off into space.

"Forgive the sudden change in subject, but I think I need to… apologise."

That surprises her, but she keeps her face impassive. "For what?" Woosh, she turns the page.

"Last night."

This time she looks up at him properly, the crease between her eyebrows dimpling. She hadn't expected him to apologise. Still, she keeps it cool. "I caught you living the rockstar life. So?"

He speaks slowly, carefully, judging her every reaction. "I invited you into to my home. I told you I wanted to know you better. Instead I was caught, intoxicated, in the middle of a... dalliance."

Dalliance? Is this guy from the eighteen hundreds?

"It _really_ doesn't matter."

"Aye. If you say so." He scratches behind his ear, an internal struggle showing on his face. He closes his eyes. "Only, it does." His eyes snap open, meeting hers. "The truth is, I _do_ want to get to know you better."

Every inch of his face screams honesty. He's showing all the signs of telling the truth; meeting her gaze, relaxed shoulders, face a normal colour. Maybe he _is_ telling the truth, but she can't take a chance that she's wrong about him.

"You do, huh?"

"I understand how you must be feeling," he says. "You're new. Sometimes it's hard to settle in. I should have helped you."

"I think I've managed to settle in without your help," says Emma. She doesn't mean to sound so frigid.

"I've been in your shoes before, Swan. I know how it is to be alone."

"I'm not alone," she says, too quickly.

"Perhaps you're not. I'm just telling you. I know how it feels."

Emma can feel it. Her blood boiling. What does Killian Jones know about being alone? Everyone flocks to him. He's the main character on one of the most successful television shows of all time. Millions of fans adore him. He probably has a huge network of friends, family and girlfriends to support him. She can tell by his careless, easy-going attitude that he's never had to struggle.

And his assumptions about _her_ being alone just piss her off.

"Killian…" She says, keeping her voice soft. "Don't think I don't know what this is. You, trying to-" she rolls her eyes. "-bond with me."

Just like that, his face falls. "Swan, I-"

"Just, don't. Try and bond with me, I mean."

"Swan-"

"I'm going to get something to drink. I'll see you on set," she tells him, as she rises from her seat and scoops up her script. She walks off without another glance in his direction.

She decides to head over to the cafeteria to get some water and maybe a sandwich. The set sandwiches aren't the nicest, but they do. Shouldn't a TV show as popular as Kings And Queens have a bigger budget for food?

She has a feeling this scene is going to take a _long_ time. They're scheduled for a night shoot too. The last thing she needs is hunger pains before their next break.

There's a line when she gets there, but she doesn't mind too much. The longer she spends queuing, the less she has to talk to Killian before their scene. She has a feeling that every conversation they have is going to be awkward. At least for a while, anyway.

 _Stupid, arrogant actor,_ she thinks.

"Ah, Miss Swan."

Emma turns at the voice. Gold stands behind her, dressed in full kingly costume. Or Rumple, as some people call him. She hasn't spoken to him since filming the initial scenes. As a servant, Emma doesn't really have a lot of screentime with the king. Sometimes she'll be in big throne room scenes with him, but then there's usually about fifty people and she doesn't have time to talk to him. Not that she wants to anyway. Even when she was filming with him, he made little effort to actually speak to her. That combined with his stunt at the audition has surely kept him from making it into her good books.

According to her sources (Graham), Gold was at her audition because he's a producer as well as an actor. They couldn't get rid of him if they tried. He has too much power. That's what makes her want to know about that _thing_ with him and Killian. Surely, if it's a feud like she's heard, then Gold could have had Killian kicked off the show? So why hasn't he? She knows there's something between them. She could tell by the way Graham lied when he told her there was nothing to tell.

"Gold," she greets, without a smile on her face. She finds it really hard to be pleasant to him.

"I hoped I'd find you here."

"In the cafeteria line?" She frowns. "Lucky guess."

His eyes are amused. "You could say that." There's a pause as the line moves up one. He uses a cane to guide himself closer to her. She really wishes he wouldn't. "I do believe we haven't really had a proper chance to get to know each other."

Why does everyone want to get to know her? Why can't they just let her be?

"We've had scenes together. Plenty of time to get to know each other," she says, a little testily. "And at the audition. You told me I mumbled over my lines."

"Ah yes," he says. "Though that wasn't exactly true."

"Then why did you say it?"

He's smiling. Actually, it's not much of a smile, but more of a grimace, twisting his lips strangely. "It was a… ah, device. To make you angry, Miss Swan. We wanted to see how much passion you have."

"You could have asked me to do the scene with more passion." She folds her arms. "I would have."

"I'm afraid that wouldn't have had the same effect."

They shuffle up in the line, as it moves again, sneaking closer and closer to the scent of food. Emma's stomach is about to rumble and demand some nutrition. She's silent for a moment as she debates which sandwich to go for (cheese and ham? Brie and grape?), but she's very aware of the man behind her. It puts her on edge. Then she has a thought.

"So what if I hadn't acted the way I did? What if I just ignored you?"

For a moment there's silence, and the steady thump, thump, thump of his cane as the line moves up again. The line is moving too quickly. She'll have to face Killian again soon.

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that," Gold finally says.

"I wouldn't have got the part," says Emma. It's not a question. It looks as if she has that dreaded fiery side to thank. She shouldn't push it away so often.

Then he says something that makes her gut twist.

"What didn't go down too well was the harm you inflicted on our main star, Killian Jones."

"I slapped him. So what?" She shrugs, trying to ignore the way her gut twists yet again.

"It almost cost you the audition." Thump, thump, thump. "If Belle didn't like you, you wouldn't be here right now."

Slowly, she turns to face him. "Why are you telling me this?" she says, though she's sure she knows the answer. This man likes to play with people. He toys with a person's feelings and weaknesses like a cat preying on a mouse.

That strange smile is back. "I'm just trying to give you some perspective, Miss Swan."

Luckily for Emma, she's never been a mouse.

"I have plenty of perspective."

"Be careful with him, Emma."

The sudden change of subject takes her off guard. She stares at Gold, his smug little face, and thin form. She's the one who breaks his gaze. She _hates_ the aura of power that surrounds him.

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

Another smile. "He's not what he seems."

"I don't think-"

He's already gone, limping off through the cafeteria, the thump of the cane growing smaller second by second. He didn't even get anything to eat or drink. So he just came to what? Bait her into losing her temper? She doesn't believe for one second that the warning is genuine.

One thing's abundantly clear to her.

There is _definitely_ a feud between Killian and Gold.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!**


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next few weeks, filming is beginning to take their toll on her. Even though she tries to fight it, the exhaustion drowns more and more. The bags under her eyes have _bags_.

A few more episodes air. These, she watches with Henry, David, Mary Margaret, and… Graham.

Henry's in the middle of playing his game when Emma casually slips into conversation that she's invited Graham round to watch the next episode. The controller slips from his hands and falls to the floor with a clatter.

"You're _kidding."_

"Nope, he'll be round at eight PM sharp."

Henry spends the rest of the day getting ready. He changes his outfit about ten different times, and styles his hair in hundreds of different ways. When seven thirty arrives, he paces around. Occasionally he'll stop and stare into space like he can't believe it. It must be all so surreal for him.

When the doorbell goes, he jumps in the air like a terrified cat.

"You ready, kid?" She asks, trying to suppress her laughter as she makes her way to the door.

He doesn't answer. He doesn't seem to hear her. When Graham comes in, he stares and stares and stares. When he introduces himself, Henry stands there, paperwhite and on the verge of tears. Eventually, he reaches out and prods Graham with shaking hands. It takes him a good half an hour to even start talking to him.

Graham asks him about school, friends, and his life in general. All the while Henry answers, his eyes have a wide, sparkling look. There's a tremor in his voice. When they watch the episode, his gaze moves back and forth between the screen Graham and real Graham. The poor kid's in shock.

When it's time for Graham to leave, Henry bursts out, "Can I have an autograph?"

That causes a great laugh from him. Emma can't help but laugh either when she realises the _whole_ time he's been here, Henry has been battling with himself about whether to ask him for an autograph.

Graham signs everything Henry wants, and even takes a few pictures with him. The smile on her son's face is priceless.

When he leaves, Henry deflates. "Oh. My. _God_. Mom."

* * *

The next day at filming Graham and Emma laugh at that. It isn't remotely teasing, and it isn't to fun of him. It's fond. Emma can't believe that Graham had such an effect on Henry.

When Elsa joins them and asks what they're talking about, she recounts the story of last night.

"Anna's daughter is just the same," says Elsa. "I introduced her to Killian and she fainted. Actually fainted. So we made him dab her forehead with a damp cloth to wake her, and his was the first face she saw when she woke up." She chuckles. "She's a big fan. So are all her friends. She went to school the day after and told them he came to her house. They didn't believe her at all. So the next day, he walked her to school, right up to the gates. It was so funny."

"What did her friends do?" asks Graham.

"Flocked round her." Elsa rolls her eyes. "Pretended to be her best friends. These are the same girls who liked to ignore her all the time."

"Who's laughing now, huh?" says Emma.

"Exactly!" Elsa says. "Killian comes around Anna's house all the time now. He's always hanging out with her daughter. And they post pictures on Twitter and Facebook. I can only imagine her friends sitting there, green with envy."

"Serves them right," Graham comments.

"The only thing is…" Elsa covers her mouth to try and stop a giggle. "She has to hide her Killian posters and bedspread if he comes over."

Emma thinks of the Elsa poster Henry has in his room and has to hide a smile. She can't _imagine_ what he'll be like when he meets Elsa. She's going to have to arrange that soon.

* * *

It's a night shoot again. Emma stocks up on caffeine, consuming as many cups of coffee as breaks will allow. The coffee on set isn't too great so Graham runs to get Elsa, Emma and himself something from Starbucks. She can't thank him enough - Starbucks coffee is a dream compared to this fuel-tasting crap.

She mainly films scenes with Graham, up to two in the morning. There's a half an hour break and then she has to film with Killian.

Things have been a little awkward with them since their last conversation. She doesn't really know how to act around him, especially when he's flirting -and he's _always_ flirting-, so she just folds her arms, and imagines a wall around herself. Not to mention, he seems to be flirting with _everyone_ else. Is he doing it just to annoy her?

She doesn't talk to him unless she has to. She prefers the company of Graham and Elsa. Kilian's often around Will and Robin, joking with them, and she hasn't quite warmed to them yet. They're always playing pranks on each other.

One day, when she has a bit of downtime, she spots Killian sat on one of the chairs on the throne room set. The chairs are huge and though Killian's tall, they seem to drown him.

He, like her, is dressed in full costume, hair woven into perfect waves. He stares intently at a laptop screen, a blue glow on his face. A loud laugh escapes his lips. She can't help but wonder what's so funny.

"What're you up to?" she asks as she approaches him.

He glances up, in a daze. When he sees who it is, his bubble pops. Shock flickers across his face, just for a second. She's not surprised.

"Emma!" he greets, still chuckling a little. "Take a seat. Let me show you this."

She slides next to him and peers over at his computer. A blue website stares back at her, full of colour and moving images.

"What's this?" she asks, as she tucks herself in, careful not to disrupt her costume.

"Tumblr!" he announces, a huge smile on his face.

Tumblr? Isn't that what Henry has? Didn't Regina tell her it was for 'fans'?

"Oh," she blinks.

"It's a blogging site."

"I know what Tumblr is," she snaps. "What I mean is, what are you doing on it?"

He chuckles, eyes fixed on the screen. "I, Emma Swan, have been a proud owner of a Tumblr blog for the last two years."

For a moment, she wonders if she's heard him right. "Hang on, what? This is _your_ account?"

"Of course! Whose else could it be?"

"Well, I guess I would just use Henry's-" Her eyes drift over to the screen as she speaks. "Is that my face?" Her sudden rise in volume makes a few people turn and stare at her. Embarrassed, she ignores them.

"Well observed, love. Did I mention my blog is about the show?"

"...What?"

He looks over at her with a wide, toothy grin. "More importantly, about me."

She blinks, questioning her hearing again. "You have a fan blog… about yourself?"

"Aye." His smile is luminous. "That I do."

"You've got to be _kidding_ me."

"Would I dare lie to you, Swan? Here, look."

He angles the laptop so she has a clear view, and clicks on what she assumes is his profile. Sure enough, a photo of his face pops up, dark and brooding. She catches his username-

"King of my heart Killian?" She chokes. " _That's_ your username?"

"It's a URL _actually_ , love," he says, defensively.

"My bad."

She loses it at his description, dissolving into snorts and laughter, covering her mouth: _He can be my king any day._

Though she must admit, his use of colour scheme is nearing perfection. He must have put a hell of a lot of effort into this. Or, more realistically, maybe he paid someone to do it for him. That sounds like him.

He isn't on it long before they both hear an abrupt woosh and a little notification flashes in the right hand corner.

"Ah, that must be Keira," he announces, brightly.

"Who's Keira?"

He doesn't miss her tone, raising his eyebrows questioningly. "Just a girl I'm talking to. She lives in England and she loves Killian almost as much as I do."

"Ah, so she's an ego booster?" Emma gives a satisfied smile.

"We just have a common interest."

"A common interest being yourself. Do you realise how egotistic you sound?"

He sighs, shaking his head. "Ah, Emma. There are other uses for this blog. I get to find out what people think of me. What they think of the show."

"So what? You just… send someone a message? Ask what they think of you? I don't think this Keira is going to tell Killian honestly what she thinks of Killian."

"Right, as always," he says, with a blinding smile. "She believes I'm an eighteen year old girl from America. Called Cindy."

Emma blinks a few times. "Pretty sure that's illegal. Not to mention creepy." He doesn't seem offended. He just laughs, shrugging it off. "So she doesn't have _any_ idea you're Killian?"

"Nope." He pops the "p". "She always mentions about how she wants to meet me."

"You're a cruel man."

Emma can't imagine what this Keira would do if she found out she's actually talking to the real Killian Jones. Probably faint. Or cry. Or both.

"You wound me! I am anything but. In fact, I plan to have her come to the studio one day."

She folds her arms. "One day, huh?" That doesn't sound very promising. Maybe if Keira has any sense, she'll be able to work out that it's Killian. Afterall, what sane person would _actually_ have the username KingOfMyHeartKIllian.

"I don't want to give up my blog just yet."

Emma shrugs and goes back to watching the blog. She doesn't understand most of it, and he's scrolling too fast for her to really catch in the information. She catches her face again. Only, this time it's next to his face.

"What's that?" She asks.

Immediately, he begins to scroll back up the blog at superhuman speed. "What's what?"

"You've just gone off it!" she accuses. "What was it?"

"Nothing," he says, too quickly. His ears are turning pink.

"Killian…"

"Nothing of importance."

"You're lying." She reaches across to scroll back down, ignoring him when he tries to bat her hand away. "Just let me…"

He slams the laptop lid closed with a clack. "We should rehearse for that, uh, scene."

"Rehearse, huh?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Yes. In a moment. If you'll excuse me, Swan, I'm going to go and hydrate myself."

Without further ado he stands, scoops the laptop under his arm, and heads off in the direction of the cafeteria. She watches him go, frowning. He is _definitely_ hiding something. And Emma is going to find out what it is.

* * *

The next day, Emma leads Henry into the kitchen, by his shoulders. Regina follows closely behind, having just dropped him off. He's here for the weekend, since they've not been spending a lot of time together thanks to crazy filming schedules. As soon as the hiatus comes about, she'll have him a lot more, but both his moms agreed that while Emma works long nights and early mornings, it's better for him to stay there.

"Thanks for doing this, kid," Emma says, as he plonks himself down at the kitchen table in front of his laptop.

"I guess I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Nope." She's smiling. "But seriously, I couldn't do it without you. I wouldn't know where to start on this tumble thing."

"It's called Tumblr, Mom." He shakes his head. "What exactly do you wanna know?"

As Henry logs on, she explains about Killian and his sudden urge to hide something on Tumblr, something that included her face. If it includes her face, it is her sole _right_ to find out what it is. Regina agrees wholeheartedly.

"Wait…" He turns to face her, eyes widening. "Killian Jones has a _Tumblr?"_

"Yeah, but it's a sort of secret thing. No one knows it's him."

" _No way."_

She laughs. "Yes way. He's pretending to be this eighteen year old year from America, but you can't tell anyone. Okay, kid?"

Henry zips his lips, and turns back to the screen. He brings up the web browser and his fingers whirl furiously all over the keyboard.

"Why is he pretending to be a _teenage girl_?" Regina asks, folding her arms, nose turned up. She's judging him, Emma can feel it, and she doesn't like it.

"He wants to know what people think about the show. Their honest opinions."

Once Henry's logged into the account, he turns to Emma. "What's his URL?"

"His what?"

"His username."

"Oh!" She feels a little stupid. "I can't really remember…" She racks her brains, trying to think. "Uh… um… Ki… K...King of my heart Killian! Yes, that's it."

Regina makes no attempt to hide her snort. "What the hell?"

"You have got to be _kidding_ me." Henry's eyes are wide again, full of childlike wonder and shock. " _He follows me."_ And then, his face slowly transforms into a look of horror. "He sees what I post. He sees what everyone posts."

"Do not tell me you're posting things we need to be concerned about, young man," says Regina. It's amazing how she can fall into unamused mom in a matter of seconds.

"No, Mom. No need to worry." He hastily turns away, typing again.

Emma and Regina wait patiently, arms folded, eyes trained on the screen, mirror images of each other. Emma doesn't know what to expect, but she's ready for anything. And with fans, it _could_ be anything.

"Here we go."

Emma pulls a chair from under the kitchen table, and sits one side of her son. Regina follows suit, sitting on the other side of him. They both watch the screen, waiting for something to happen. Henry scrolls down a little, showing them bits and pieces. There are promotional stills from the previous episodes, photos of the previous episodes, and those moving images of the previous episodes. There are also big blocks of text, where people give their opinion on the show.

"What's fic?" Emma asks, when he scrolls past something that says about different fics.

"Fanfiction? You wanna stay away from that."

He's slowly turning pink again, so she decides she's better off leaving it alone.

He keeps scrolling, down and down and down, and everything is much the same stuff - the same moving images, just in colour. Then something catches her eyes.

"Stop!"

He stops his scrolling, but as soon as he does, Emma can tell he'll live to regret it. It's the thing she saw on Killian's blog. She remembers the colours and the tip of her head. Only now, seeing it for what it is, she's not sure she wants to see it at all. No wonder Killian turned all embarrassed.

Regina snorts again, unable to keep her laughter at bay. " _Photoshop."_

There's a caption. It reads: 'Wedding Day Times.' Though the image is certainly set after the wedding day. More like the wedding night.

"It looks real," Regina comments, with a slow smirk. "Are you sure it isn't, Emma?"

"No, it's not," she snaps. Heat is flushing to her face. "I don't understand. What's the point of this? We're not married on the show."

"People create their own stories about the show," Henry explains. He has a slightly disgusted expression. He rises from the chair and abandons his laptop.

"Where are you going?" asks Regina.

"To get some mind bleach." He leaves the kitchen, and heads upstairs.

Emma and Regina take this opportunity to look through more of this Tumblr thing. They go on Killian's blog. He likes to repost endless pictures of his face, which really isn't a big surprise. What _is_ a big surprise is the amount of reposts he has of Emma's face, especially with the caption 'She's so beautiful.' What's that all about?

"It looks like he has a thing for you," says Regina.

"Don't be stupid," Emma says. "He only has a thing for himself."

Though, she can't really explain the images of her. He likes to repost images of them together, as well. Then they come across one of the many pictures Killian has put up on his instagram, another one of Emma in the makeup chair. Someone has reposted it to Tumblr. There's a few comments, including some that don't make sense.

"What's a Captain Swan?" asks Emma.

"No idea," says Regina, with a frown. "You're better off asking Henry. If he ever talks to us again."

When Emma comes across an opinion of her face (the very opposite of what Killian was reblogging), she decides enough is enough. Stupid, petty comments don't usually bother her, but they're still not nice to see. She closes the laptop lid and they call it quits.

After a quick coffee, Regina says goodbye to Henry, and leaves. It's not long before Henry heads to bed, tired from all his school work. Emma knows she should sleep too, but she can't. She's thinking about Killian's blog, and all the pictures he reposted of her. Perhaps he's not all he seems.

She's not _too_ creeped out by the blogs. At least, not as creeped out as she thought she would be. It's really sweet, actually, knowing people are so invested in the show. If they like her as a character, it means she's doing something right. If they like the idea of Alexander and Rose together, it means she and Killian must have chemistry. They seem ecstatic at the thought of the characters having a simple conversation, so she can't begin to imagine their reactions when they find out there's a kiss.

A kiss.

The kiss.

Emma hasn't thought about the kiss in a while. She's good at ignoring things she doesn't want to think about. But now, she can't ignore it. They're due to film it this week. It's happening. It's real. She doesn't know how she feels about that.

Killian hasn't mentioned it. She's surprised at that because he's a huge flirt. It's easy to flirt over a , part of her is glad. She's nervous enough as it is, without his quipping comments. Perhaps the reason he hasn't mentioned it is because he's nervous too.

No.

No, that's not it.

Killian Jones is never nervous, so why would he be about a kiss? He probably kisses loads of women on a daily basis. He's done onscreen kisses before. This will be a walk in the park for him. She doesn't know how to feel about _that_ either.

And so she pushes it from her mind, and tries to get some rest. It's another one of those agonisingly early starts tomorrow.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this - I know I enjoyed writing it. As always, let me know what you think! And there may be a certain kiss coming up next in a certain chapter...**


	9. Chapter 9

"I can't believe there's a _kiss_ ," Mary Margaret says, all dreamy eyed.

She, David and Emma sit in a cosy little restaurant for breakfast. With her very recent, very big paycheck, Emma's decided to treat them to something nice. It's a thank you for all the support they've given her during Kings and Queens _._ Not to mention, David's the whole reason she's on the show. He, too, received a big fat paycheck from it.

In front of her resides the most huge pancake stack she has ever seen, drizzled in chocolate sauce, topped with bright red, juicy strawberries. She puts on ten pounds just looking at it, but Emma doesn't care. Go big or go home. She cuts into it.

"I can't believe you're still excited over that kiss," She says, taking a bite.

" _I_ can't believe you gave my wife spoilers," says David, tucking into his own breakfast, a sky high bacon sandwich.

"Oh David, be quiet," Mary Margaret says fondly. "You know I love spoilers."

"Yeah but _I_ don't."

"C'mon David," says Emma. "You had to know there was a kiss coming sometime. It's so predictable."

"Yeah but…" His lips turn downward. "But no-one tell me anymore, okay?"

"Sure thing," she says. She won't tell David anything. Mary Margaret, however, is an entirely different story…

"How are you feeling about it?" Mary Margaret asks. "Nervous? Excited?"

"It's a job," She shrugs, trying to make it sound like less of a big deal. And it _wouldn't_ be that much of big deal if it wasn't Killian Jones. But it is. And his outrageous flirting makes everything more complicated than it needs to be.

"But it's _Killian_ ," Mary Margaret sighs, dreamily.

"Hey!" says David. He points a fork at his wife. "Toby is better than him."

"Toby's sweet but…" She frowns. "He doesn't have the same roguish appeal as Alexander."

"I thought sweet was your type."

She pats his arm, a little patronisingly. "Of course, dear."

After breakfast, David and Mary Margaret drop Emma off at work. They offer to pick her up too, but it's going to be a late shoot again, probably way into the night. She'll get a car on the way back. The show's always offering to drive actors home. She knows Killian doesn't drive to and from there himself.

"Have fun!" Mary Margaret tells her, as chirpy as ever.

As soon as she sets foot on the ground, she's ushered into costume and makeup. Afterwards she has an hour to kill, so she finds Graham, but he isn't much company.

"You're quiet," she says, tilting her head slightly. The last hour of silence has been almost unbearable. All her attempts at conversation have fizzled into nothing. Usually it's easy to talk to Graham, but not today.

"I am?" He gives her a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. They're dark, with a twinge of sadness.

"Unusually quiet."

"I'm fine," he says.

He stares out the window, eyes on raindrops which snake down the glass. He is most certainly _not_ fine.

Emma leans forward to place her hand over his in a comforting gesture. His hand twitches, like he's about to move it away, but thinks better of it. She doesn't miss it. She keeps her hand there for barely a second before the awkwardness becomes too much to handle.

"If anything's bothering you…" She takes a breath. She's not good at these sort of things. She can hardly comfort herself, let alone another person. But Graham's her friend, so she should try. She channels her inner Mary Margaret. "Just let me know, okay?"

Another smile flashes across his face, lacking in warmth. "'Course."

They sit in silence for another half an hour. The rain slows to a drizzle and then eventually, it stops altogether. The grey clouds stay, casting darkness over the morning.

"I have a scene so I'll see you later, Emma," he eventually says, rising from his seat. "Have fun… filming." And then he's gone, leaving her to frown at nothing.

* * *

"Emma, you're pacing," Elsa scolds, glancing up from the book she's reading. She sits at one of the big, gold chairs on the throne room set, in full costume.

Emma wraps her arms around her stomach as she paces, hoping it'll do something to halt the butterflies that threaten to make their way out at any moment. Why does she have butterflies? They're characters. It's not real. It's _not._

"Everyone gets nervous, especially about their first onscreen kiss."

"I'm not nervous. Who says I'm nervous?"

"You're pacing like a caged lion." Slowly, she closes her book. "Look, you've got to relax, okay? It'll be alright. It's just another acting… thing."

Elsa, voice of reason. Emma stops in her tracks, looking over at the person who has so quickly become her friend. "I know it will."

"Also, Killian's had _loads_ of experience with this sort of thing. Trust me. The amount of kisses they've had him do." She shakes her head, a slow smile. "It's because he's the attractive one, isn't it?"

Elsa's right. They've had him do lots of kisses. At one point, he was with someone different every single episode. Henry told her that different women would come into the show for a few episodes, and then leave again. Emma hasn't been given her marching orders, but it's a testament to how quickly they could get rid of her if they wanted to. Like snapping their fingers.

But that's just part of the job. Still, it doesn't stop her from worrying about it. The thought of going home and having to tell Henry she won't be on the show anymore makes her feel sick.

"Well, what makes this any different?" Emma asks, unable to stop herself. She knows how petty she sounds. "So they'll give me their kiss with Killian, and then get rid of me. Like all the other women."

"Not true."

"How do you know?"

"Because," comes another voice from behind them. Emma knows it's Killian before she even turns around. "They want to give me a love interest." He walks right up to Emma, and looks directly in her eyes as he says his next words. "They want to make me _feel_ something. Give me something to fight for, someone to love. Other than myself, of course."

"And we all know how much you love yourself," Elsa says, smirking.

He gives Elsa an eyebrow raise, and then his eyes fall back to Emma's. "Nervous, love?"

" _No,"_ she scoffs, folding her arms. Walls up, army at the ready. "Why would I be _nervous?_ "

"Because you're kissing me. That's enough to make anyone's knees weak." He leans in, lips brushing her ear. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle." And then he's gone, striding past Emma and Elsa, over to where some of the crew stand, talking.

"He's such a flirt," she fumes, glaring after him. She tries to ignore the slightly breathless quality of her voice, though she's sure Elsa's picked up on it.

* * *

About an hour later, all the other actors have left the throne room, apart from Emma and Killian. Killian's rereading the script, a crease between his two brows. She can't help but notice how dashing he looks in his costume. From what she's seen, he has a pretty apt sense of style anyway, but he suits the long tail coats, the royal embroidery and the armour. He's not wearing his coat now, only one of his many tunics, in dark purple. The buttons that keep it together are silver, as is the lace on the hem of the tunic and the sleeves. Some sort of leaf pattern in an even darker purple decorates the material.

He looks a hell of a lot more royal than her, that's for sure. She wears a simple maid's dress, in grey. Half of her hair is pulled away from her face, the other half styled in a mess of pale waves. Awkwardly, she smooths down the sleeves on her dress. It's not as plain as all the other maids' dresses. They want her to stand out a little from the rest of them.

One of the makeup artists makes their way over to touch up her face. When they're gone, she coughs out a cloud of powder. God, she _hates_ the makeup aspect of it all.

Once Killian's finished reading the script, he places it down on the table and walks towards her. "How're you doing?" he asks, that flirting manner evaporated. It's like the whole heartbreaker aspect of him is a show. He's almost bearable when they're alone.

"Fine," she answers. Emma's hostile manner, however, is certainly _not_ an act.

"Lighten up, Swan. Onscreen kisses are fun," he teases. What was she saying about his flirting?

"I heard they weren't fun."

He chooses to ignore that. "Just think about it. We'll probably have to do countless takes."

She rolls her eyes. "Lucky for us."

"You might even end up falling for me," he says, sighing like it happens all the time.

Emma's shoulders tense, her hands clenching. "Onscreen kisses _aren't_ romantic. You should know. You've done a lot of them."

His eyes flash over to hers, darker all of a sudden. His lips twitch, like he's fighting a smile. Or perhaps a smirk. "You don't think they're romantic?"

" _No._ "

"That's because you haven't had an onscreen kiss with me yet."

Her mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Now he's _definitely_ smirking, the smirk growing into one of those wide smiles, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth. She can't think of a comeback. She can't think of a way to wipe that stupid smirk off his face, an unusuality for Emma.

"ROLLING IN FIVE," Grumpy yells from the edge of the set. They both jump.

With a last glance over his script, Killian throws it off the set. A few costume people adjust his clothing, pulling up his collar, tugging on the hem of his shirt. They do the same with Emma, adjusting her skirts and fluffing up her hair.

Belle rushes over, Grumpy following closely behind. There's an excited light in her eyes as she claps her hands together, bouncing in her high heels.

"I am so excited for this," she says, bouncing on her feet. "I've been waiting for this through all the seasons. Finally, something that's gonna shock Alexander. It's gonna bring out a completely new side of him that I just can't _wait_ for the audience to see."

"Aye," Killian murmurs. "Not a lot shocks him."

"We wanna shoot the kiss in a number of ways," Grumpy explains. "As you know, this is the _last_ scene, as well as the last episode. It needs to leave the audience wanting more. So it has to be gentle. It can't give the audience too much."

Emma's eyes flicker over to Killian. His jaw is set. He nods, once.

"So we're gonna just go for it, okay guys?" says Belle.

This time, they both nod.

"Excellent." Grumpy says. "PLACES," he yells as he stalks off. She can hear him asking if everybody's ready.

Belle places one of her hands on Killian's arm, and the other on Emma's. "You'll be brilliant," she tells them, before she follows Grumpy.

Both Killian and Emma move to their positions. Emma faces the two thrones at the end of the room. She tries to relax a little, ignoring the butterflies in her stomach and how tense her shoulders are. She focuses on the design, the twists and turns in the cold metal. She can feel Killian's presence behind her, and it puts her on edge.

"ROLLING."

Just like that, Emma's in character. She looks up at the thrones, seeming so small compared to something so powerful. There's an odd silence in the room. It makes her tense. A camera is positioned right in front of her.

"AND ACTION."

"Rose," comes Killian's voice from behind her, soft as always.

Emma closes her eyes at his words, deflating a little. And then she turns, immediately falling to her knees. "My lord."

He catches her by her arms, gentle hands grasping them, and pulls her to her feet. For a moment they stand, him still holding her, as they gaze at each other. Emma stares into his eyes. Then he drops her arms like he's been burned, and takes a generous step back. Emma tears her eyes away from his, and bites her lip, a nervous gesture she's given to the character.

Killian places his arms behind his back, averting his eyes. "I thought I'd find you in here."

"You were looking for me?" She raises her eyebrows. "Sire?"

"Yes." His eyes widen, ever so slightly. "I mean no. No. Not at all," he splutters. Unlike Killian, Alexander doesn't think before he speaks, often resulting in many arguments with his father. When Killian speaks, Emma gets the feeling that every word is deliberate. A test.

"It makes sense. Why would you, a prince, be looking for me, a servant."

"You know you are so much more than that."

He takes an abrupt step forward, but she doesn't step back. Even though Emma isn't fond of the space invasion, Rose would give anything to be close to Alexander.

"I only wish it were true," she says, softly.

"You don't see yourself very clearly, do you Emma?"

For a moment there is an awkward silence, a few drawn out sighs and a groan from the man himself. When she realises what he's done, her heart catches in her throat.

"CUT."

Killian is quick to apologise, scratching the back of his head. "Bloody hell, I'm sorry."

If Emma didn't know any better, she'd say his cheeks have a pink tinge to them. He kicks the floor with his boot.

"Go from your last line, Killian," Grumpy instructs.

Emma smooths down her dress and returns to Rose's position. When Grumpy yells "ACTION," Killian's blush still hasn't evaporated. Something about it makes Emma suppress a smile.

"You don't see yourself very clearly, do you Rose?" he says, falling back into character immediately.

"I see myself as what I am."

"You are more than a servant."

"My Lord, I don't think that's-"

"In the seafront battle," he interrupts her. There's more urgency to his words, and a Killian-like confidence with his next step. "I thought I'd lost you. Let me finish. I thought I'd never have a chance to…"

She's on edge now. Goosebumps raise on her arms, hairs stand up on the back of her neck. "To…?"

There's a pause. A look. And then he's leaning forward, and his lips are against hers. There isn't any sudden lapse of control or a mad fit of passion. He doesn't move to hold her, but lets his arms rest by his sides. Her eyes fall closed. It's soft and sweet, so unlike Killian's rough nature.

But this is not Killian kissing her. This is Alexander. She'll do well to remember it.

All too soon the kiss is over, and he's staring at her with those intense blue eyes. There's something vulnerable in Killian's face.

No, not Killian's face. _Alexander's._ This is Alexander, not Killian.

But then why are there butterflies in Emma's stomach, not Rose's?

"CUT."

For a moment, Killian looks a little dazed. And then he blinks out of it.

"Right guys!" comes Belle's voice. She rushes over, Grumpy at her very high, very bright blue heels. "That was great, we loved that. So gentle. We were just thinking more movement from you Killian, okay?"

"Aye."

"And Emma, sister," Grumpy cuts in. "We loved that yearning look you had. So keep that, okay?"

Yearning look? Emma isn't aware she was doing a yearning look. "Okay," she says.

"We're going from Emma's last line, okay guys?" says Grumpy.

They both disappear, replaced by the makeup team. Killian doesn't joke around. Compared to how he is usually, he seems quite serious; fingers drumming at his sides, shoulders tense. He's not looking at her either, which is a surprise. Usually, he spares no time in throwing her suggestive looks, and flirty comments. Right here, right now, he stares into space, jaw set. It's like a war is going on in his head.

Soon comes Grumpy's familiar shout of "ROLLING", and they take their places, facing each other. Even then, Killian avoids Emma's face. That's until an "ACTION" follows.

"To…?" says Emma, leaning forward a little.

The pause seems longer this time. It's as if Killian is drawing it out and really focussing on the tension. Her eyes are on his face, though she can just about make out the rise and fall of his chest, swifter than usual. It seems natural. He's one hell of an actor.

And then his lips brush against hers again, so gentle, so loving. This time, he moves his hands up to tenderly rest against her neck, just under her jaw. She leaves hers by her side - Rose would be too shocked to make a move, especially to her Prince. He pulls her against him, just for a moment, like he can't stop himself. Then it's over, and he's pushing her away, taking steps back.

"CUT."

Belle praises that one. It's like she has hearts in her eyes. She can't stop gushing about it. They continue filming, over and over again, like with every scene. Sometimes Killian changes his movements, or his hand placement. Sometimes Emma places her hands on his sides.

The more they kiss, the stronger the relief gets. With every retake, it feels like exactly what it is - a job. The butterflies have gone, along with her nerves. It's not romantic, not with hundreds of eyes watching them. His motions are almost robotic, like he's remembering what he needs to do. Every hand placement, every draw of breath is calculated.

Then again, this is just a small kiss. A quick kiss. A brush of lips for a few seconds tops. But Emma has seen the other kiss scenes in the show, and she knows that this is just the beginning.

Finally, Grumpy calls, "THAT'S A WRAP."

As soon as it's over, Killian breathes out a sigh. He brings his hand up to his lips, fingertips tracing over them. The movement is over as quickly as it came, but Emma doesn't miss it. She doesn't miss anything.

"Good work today, Swan," he tells her, staring off into the distance. "I'll see you later." Then he's gone, leaving the set. She watches him tear out the room.

* * *

 **Well thank you for reading, as always! I hope you liked it, let me know what you think !:)**


	10. Chapter 10

"Well, guys," says Belle. "We've had a good Fall filming. As always, you've been amazing."

There's a murmur of agreement from the crowd. They all stand around set, holding little plastic cups full of alcohol. Since it's the end of the filming, (at least for Christmas), they're having a cast party. A proper cast party - not the shambles Killian threw months ago. One big difference is this party happens to be on set, and the music isn't quite as loud, so there isn't any dancing. It's more of a sophisticated party.

"So have a good, relaxing two months, and be ready to start again straight away when you get back. Okay, guys?"

Another hum comes from the crowd. Some raise their drinks to her. She raises hers back

"And also, I think now would be a good time to remind you about FWC."

Everyone starts cheering and raising their glasses again. Emma can see excitement on their faces and she frowns. She has _no_ idea what this is, or whether she should be excited. Once again, she feels out of touch. Henry would know what it is, but Henry's not here to help her at the moment, so she makes use of the resources she has; Graham.

"What's FWC?" she asks.

"Frozen Wonderland Con," comes a voice from behind her, that is certainly not Graham's.

Both her and Graham turn around to the voice. A man with a long face and a dusting of stubble, not unlike Killian's, stands behind them. He too sips from a plastic cup. She recognises him from the television and filming, but she hasn't really had a proper conversation with him. It's funny how she can work with people months at a time, and not speak to them once. Their schedules are completely different. His name is Robin.

"What's that?" she asks.

"One of the biggest conventions of all time."

"I've never heard of it." She takes a sip of her drink.

"Oh, Emma," Graham chuckles. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at her. "Sometimes I forget this is all new to you."

She wrinkles her nose. She doesn't like to be patronised. "So what is it?"

"It's a place where the fans from the show can meet other fans. Oh, and the actors," says Robin. He goes on to explain that lots of different TV shows go there. They have separate panels, where fans can ask questions. Emma's not sure how she feels about being put on the spot like that. "It's during the hiatus."

" _This_ hiatus?" Her eyes widen. That soon?

Graham's chuckle comes again. "We promote the second half of the season. There's one in the summer as well."

"Oh, and they dress up," says Robin, a wide smile growing on his face.

"Dress up?"

"As the characters," he continues. "It's amazing. Really."

"It definitely puts everything in perspective," says Graham. "A bit surreal. Kinda makes you realise that everything is for them."

"Exactly," says Robin. "And we're only here because they've put us here."

Emma has to agree with that. If a show doesn't take off then it gets taken off air, and the actors have to stumble around until they find another job.

Graham and Robin explain what to expect at a convention. There's art stands, merchandise stalls, interviews, panels, coffee mornings (which happen just to be other interviews - apparently fans win these). All she can do is shake her head in wonder. That sounds equally amazing and terrifying.

Later, after Robin goes to mingle and she stands with Graham, her thoughts are still on the convention. As it turns out, no-one has been booked yet, and she can turn it down if she wants to. Apparently no-one _ever_ turns it down, but they have to check with the actors just to make sure. Graham says that if she doesn't want to go that's perfectly understandable because she's new - she just has to say no when she's asked.

"No, I want to go," she tells him.

She wonders if she can get free tickets for Henry and a few friends. Before, she could never afford for him to attend events like this, let alone buy autographs and pictures with the cast. Even if she can't get him in for free, she'll pay for a ticket. Her last paycheck was too big to comprehend.

"Do you think they'll let me take my son?" she asks Graham.

"At a guess, I have to say probably not. He'd have to go in with the fans. Even then, you've got to make sure no-one knows he's your son. Otherwise, he'll get swamped with requests for autographs and things like that."

"Good point," she says as she sips her drink. She hadn't thought about that.

"But if he dresses up…" says Graham, with a slow smile.

Emma can't help a smile of her own. "Exactly."

Graham excuses himself not long after to get them both new drinks. She's there barely a moment before Killian joins her, making his way over with heavy footsteps.

"So, Swan…" Killian says, as he approaches her. He has a drink in his hand. He drapes an arm around her shoulders.

She shrugs him off. "Killian."

"I was just wondering if you wanted to come to my house in exactly three weeks and four days time. We can watch the episode. Just you and I." His arm finds his way around her shoulder again. She's pretty sure he's drunk.

"Oh no…" She peels it off, and spins away from him. When he reaches for her again, she dodges out the way. "I remember last time you invited me round your house."

"But _this_ time-"

"No thanks," she cuts. "Anyway, there's like three more episodes before that one. Why not those?"

"Why Emma." He leans forward, one of those dark brows raised. "That's the final episode." She frowns at him a moment. Then her eyes widen a touch. The last episode, of course. The kiss. "It would bring me great joy to watch the next episodes with you but alas, I am going home to England. To visit my brother."

She folds her arms. "Huh."

"But I'd very much like to watch the last one with you."

"I'm watching it with my family and… Graham."

"Graham?" His eyebrows furrow.

"Graham Humbert..." she draws out. "Plays Toby…"

"Love, I know who Graham is. I was surprised, that's all."

"I don't know why," comes the Graham's thick, Irish accent from behind her. "We've watched the whole season together." He hands her a drink. "There you go, Emma."

"Is that so?" Killian quirks an eyebrow, leaning against the wall. If Graham fazes him, he doesn't show it. Instead, he takes a slow, lazy sip of his drink. "In that case, I'm sure you won't mind if I join you?

"I don't know…" she says. She exchanges a glance with Graham, who just raises his eyebrows at her.

"C'mon, sweetheart. It would be fun, aye? The three of us."

"Six," Emma corrects. "There's Henry and Mary Margaret and David."

"The more the merrier."

Emma considers this for a moment. She thinks of Graham and how it has become _their_ thing. Graham, Henry, Mary Margaret and David.

Then, as if he can read her mind, Killian says, "I'm sure Graham wouldn't mind, would you mate?"

Graham gives a small smile. "Not at all. But it _is_ Emma's house and therefore her decision."

Killian arranges his face into the most pathetic puppy eyes she's ever seen. They stare, blue and wide at her. His lips are slightly pursed in a pout.

She remembers Henry's reaction to meeting Graham. It made her smile for _days_ after. Now he's becoming used to Graham being there. Though she still sometimes catches him staring at Graham like he's won the jackpot. She can't imagine her son's reaction if Killian walked through the door. That thought alone decides her answer.

"Okay, but no funny business."

He raises his free hand in mock shock. "Me? Funny business?"

"I mean it."

"I assure you I'll be on my _best_ behaviour," he says. Then that voice is back again. That low, flirty, dark voice. "Unless… you'd rather I wasn't."

All she can do is give him a look. She doesn't even credit his words with a response. She doesn't want to fuel his fire; he's already egotistical enough.

"I'll text you the details," says Emma. She's already wondering whether to invite Elsa - just to see her son's reaction- but she's not sure how many more people she can fit in her little house. She and David already have to sit in the floor because not everyone can fit on her sofa.

* * *

The next few weeks are restless. Though Emma has the opportunity to sleep in, she can't. She's not wired like that anymore. So she's up at the crack of dawn, twiddling her thumbs.

She doesn't really know what to do with herself. The morning is a rush of running around after Henry, helping him get his things ready for school. She gives him a hug and then he's gone and she's left alone, not sure what to do.

Mary Margaret's at work. David's at work. Regina's at work. Graham and Elsa are on holiday and she's certainly _not_ calling Killian. She can imagine him now: "Missed me, love?" She trembles - _no_ , shudders - slightly at the thought.

So she decides to clean the entire house from top to bottom. She scrubs until the tiles sparkle and wipes until the windows shine, until finally she rips her rubber gloves off her hands and declares herself finished, exhausted.

The weeks feel like years, but eventually she gets there, and it's the day of the last episode. Henry has _no_ idea Killian is turning up and the thought makes her smile, but not without notice.

"You seem happy," Henry comments.

"It's just a good day, kid."

Graham turns up first, on time, as always. He carries a bottle of wine, and holds it up when he sees her, with a smile. He doesn't mention Killian, since Emma's already told him it's a surprise. He brushes past her, straight into the kitchen to put the wine in the fridge.

Mary Margaret and David come next. David, too brings wine. He grins lopsided as he makes his way into the kitchen. He smacks Graham on the back as he passes him.

She takes Mary Margaret's coat, who seems very happy. Not that she's never _not_ happy. When Emma comments, she gives a shrug and another smile. And then she flattens her shirt down over her stomach. Emma didn't notice before, but now she does. A tiny yet unmistakable baby bump, something she wouldn't have noticed if Mary Margaret hadn't pointed it out.

"Oh Mary Margaret…" She pulls her into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her. The scent of apple catches her nose.

"And I'm very excited because I'm about to meet Killian Jones!"

"Shhh," she whispers.

"But _Killian Jones_ ," she whispers back. Emma can't help herself; she giggles. The two women stand, giggling in the hall, even though they know it must look suspicious.

When the door goes again, Emma has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. So does Mary Margaret who is purposefully not looking at her.

"Are we expecting someone else?" asks Henry.

"I don't think so," says Mary Margaret. The word 'liar' is practically written across her face. She's never been very good at keeping secrets.

Emma stumbles to the door. She pulls it open, unable to stop her smile. "Killian," she breathes out.

He raises an eyebrow in response. "Missed me, love?" There it is.

"Please. You wish," she tells him. "C'mon in." Then she turns back around, her voice raising a notch. "Guess who turned up."

She leads Killian into the living room. As he walks, he shrugs off his leather jacket. Everyone looks up at Killian when he makes his way into the room, but Emma's eyes are drawn to her son's face, which loses all colour when he sees who it is. Emma can't force the smile off her face, no matter how hard she tries.

"Henry, meet-"

"Killian Jones," says Killian. He's smoothly extending a hand towards Henry.

"Killian Jones," Henry breathes out. He stares at the hand like it's just turned purple. " _No. Way."_

Killian flashes a smile and then his eyes are drawn to Mary Margaret, who watches him with childlike wonder. "And who is this beautiful creature?" He reaches over and takes her hand.

"My wife," comes David's voice out of nowhere. He's glaring at Killian, arms crossed, legs apart. A battle stance. "She's pregnant, by the way."

"And practically glowing with it." He kisses her hand, eyes never leaving hers. She giggles, covering her mouth. David glares at them both.

"My name's Mary Margaret," she says. There are hearts in her eyes. Emma resists the urge to roll hers. Talk about a celebrity crush. "I love Alexander. You're an amazing actor."

"You're too kind." He squeezes her hand. Then he catches Graham, and nods in his direction, a little stiffly. "Graham. Mate."

Graham nods back. "Killian."

The tension diffuses as quickly as it comes, when Killian turns back to Henry. "So I hear you're a big fan of the show, lad?"

It isn't long before Henry is gushing about the show, asking him questions, begging to know what's going to happen next. They take photos, (both Graham _and_ Killian) and Henry's already tweeting or posting about it or whatever he does.

David doesn't speak to Killian much. Instead, he glare daggers over at him, especially when he gently touches Emma's arm, as he often does. When it comes to the episode, both Killian and Graham refuse to have the sofa so they sit on the floor, Emma between them. Henry, David and Mary Margaret sit all on the sofa.

They watch the episode in mostly silence. Anticipation builds all the way through, right up until the end scene, where the kiss is supposed to be. She watches the build up a little nervously. She's never seen herself kiss someone before. Then again, she imagined no-one has, unless they're very vain and happened to be positioned next to a mirror while kissing their partner.

Then their last scene is happening. Killian purposefully leans over to her and wiggles his eyebrows, but Emma ignores him, a blush rising in her cheeks. She watches them kiss on screen and it's the strangest thing she's ever seen in her whole life. Mary Margaret squeals, clapping her hands together, David's expression is torn, and Henry has turned bright red. One look over at Graham tells her he is clenching his jaw.

Killian, however, leans back against the wall, arms folded, one eyebrow raised, calm and cool. When she looks over at him, he says, "I think we did a good job there, Swan."

"It was just a kiss."

"I was referring to our acting. How interesting that you immediately thought I was talking about our kiss. Can't get it off your mind?"

She grabs the nearest cushion and whacks him in the face with it.

"I'm dying!" he calls, hands loosely closing over the cushion every time she hits him with it. "Bury me in a - _ow, bloody hell,_ \- gold plated coffin. Tell Will I'm sorry for stealing the last doughnut. Let Emma know that-" This time, he successfully grabs the cushion, and peeks over it, eyes darkening. "That I quite fancy her from time to time, when she's not yelling at me." And then, as an afterthought, "Or hitting me which a cushion."

He yanks the cushion from her grasp and throws it over the room. He's still watching her with those dark eyes.

A little flushed, she turns to Henry. "What did you think of the episode, kid?"

"It was amazing!" he says. "I loved it."

"I have to agree," Mary Margaret gushes. "It was brilliant. The best one yet. I can't _wait_ for the second half of the season. Do you know what's going to happen next?"

"Haven't a clue," says Graham. "We haven't been given the scripts yet."

"And even if we did, we couldn't tell you I'm afraid," sighs Killian. "As much as we want to."

Mary Margaret and David are the first to leave. They both hug Emma and Henry tightly, telling them they'll see them soon. Killian kisses Mary Margaret's hand again, turning her into a giggling mess, which causes David to glare at him.

Killian leaves next. He says goodbye to Henry in the living room, and Emma follows him out to the hall. He opens the door to darkness and cold, but turns abruptly to her.

"I had fun tonight, Swan," he murmurs.

"I'm… glad?"

"Look, I was…" He lowers his voice and takes a step towards her, scratching the back of his head. "I was just wondering if you'd like to-"

A loud cough comes from behind them, making them both jump a little. Graham stands behind them, his faded jacket draped over his arm, hovering awkwardly between the hall and the living room.

"Sorry to interrupt this, uh, cosy little meeting, but I'm off now."

"Oh," says Emma, eyes on Killian - who steps away from her, jaw set, eyes narrowed. "Right. Okay then. Well, I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon." He brushes past them both and out into the cool air.

Killian closes the distance between them again. He's so close that she can smell the musky scent of his leather jacket. She holds her breath. She knows what he's going to say, but she doesn't exactly know her answer. "As I was saying, I was wondering if you-"

"Killian?"

Graham is just outside the door, watching both of them. Killian sighs harshly - Emma can feel it - but when he turns back to Graham, he arranges his face into a smile. "Yes, mate?"

"Do you want to share my cab?"

"Aye. Just give me a moment, okay?" He turns back to Emma.

"Actually, you'd have to come now. He's waiting."

Another sigh. "I'm coming." Then he meets Emma's eyes. "I'll see you soon, Emma."

With one last lingering look, he's gone, down the path, following Graham. Emma watches after them for a moment, unsure what to make of any of it. With a soft sigh, she closes the door.

* * *

 **Thank you so much for reading! And thank you for the reviews, they make me squeal like an idiot! (And I get quite a lot of weird looks...) I hope you liked this one. Are you guys ready to up the ante? 'Cause I am.**


	11. Chapter 11

Emma and Henry walk round the park, both cradling cardboard cups of hot chocolate they'd bought from Starbucks. Henry wanted an ice-cream, but it's _freezing_ and someone has to be responsible here. She's amazed the ice-cream shop is even open this time of year. It's complete madness - who'd buy an ice-cream during this weather?

Emma's already wearing a hat, gloves and give or take about three pairs of socks. Henry's scarf is wrapped tightly around his neck, and covers his chin. Sometimes he brings it up to rub at his nose, which is strawberry pink. Emma doesn't blame the kid; her nose is so cold, she expects it to fall off at any moment. At least the hot chocolate provides some (if little) warmth. She can feel the heat through her woollen gloves.

"How's your hot chocolate, kid?" She asks, as they walk along the lake.

"Good. Thanks, Mom." He blows out a puff of white smoke.

Emma's eyes are drawn to the lake as they stroll. It's mostly frozen over. A fine powder covers the ice, which sparkles in the winter sun. If Emma wasn't so cold, she might be able to appreciate it better.

Still, she _did_ need to get out the house. The frosty air sharpens her senses. Plus, it's nice to spend time with her son that doesn't involve them being cooped up in the house like a pair of caged birds. Even if they are just walking.

She wants to know how school is - if he's struggling with anything. He says nothing, but she'll have to double check with Regina. She asks who he's taking to the winter con (she managed to swing a few free tickets, thanks to her new actress status) and he mentions a girl called Violet. His ears turn red and certainly _not_ from cold, but Emma doesn't comment. She has to press her lips together to stop from smiling. She knew the girlfriends would start turning up eventually.

He tries to coax Kings and Queens spoilers out of her. Even when Emma tells him she can't _possibly_ know because she hasn't gotten any scripts yet, he narrows his eyes at her. It's clear he doesn't believe her. It's not like she would tell him anyway. She doesn't want to spoil it for him.

"Filming starts soon," she tells him between sips. "Can't you just look up filming photos on that blog of yours?"

"Uh…" He scratches behind his neck. "I don't go on it anymore."

She raises her eyebrows at that. There was a time when she couldn't even get him off the damn website to go to bed, and now he doesn't go on it anymore?

"How come?"

"It's kinda weird now."

"Weird?"

He's avoiding her gaze, kicking the ground with his sneakers as he walks. "There's a lot of stuff on there about you."

"Oh." She blinks. And then: " _Oh."_

Of course. It must be weird for the kid, being the son of the love interest. And Emma has _seen_ the type of content on there thanks to Killian's blog. She's not just talking about the R-Rated content, but also the amount of hate posts directed at not only the characters, but the actors as well. It's bound to be strange for him.

"Emma Swan?"

They both turn around. A young girl (who can't be any older than Henry) is standing, staring at her with wide eyes. She must be wearing about three scarves. Hesitantly, she holds out a notebook and pen. They tremble in her gloved hands.

"Please can I have an autograph?"

Now Emma Swan has daydreamed about this moment over and over, and each time she has imagined what she'd feel: shock, awkwardness, helplessness, nervousness, and maybe even annoyed. She's not prepared for what she _actually_ feels, right here right now. And she can't put it into words - perhaps a name doesn't exist - but when she looks into the young girl's sheet white face and her warm brown eyes, she melts a little.

"Sure," she says, eyes softening. Gently, she takes the notebook from her and scribbles a signature used for boring things like bank books and statements.

"And… and a picture?" the young girl stammers. "If that's okay?" She's already pulling her phone from her pocket, hope in her eyes.

"That's fine. C'mon over here."

She does so, swiping the hair from her face with nervous fingers. Emma's _never_ had anyone look at her like this before. _I'm just Emma,_ she wants to say. Half a year ago she was serving drinks behind a bar. And now? Now it's like she's like a different person altogether.

"I could take the picture," Henry offers. The girl gratefully hands her phone over, never straying too far from Emma. Henry points the phone at them. "Ready? One…. Two…" There isn't any flash, but there's a clicking noise. Henry takes a few to be safe.

"Thank you," the girl mumbles as she takes her phone back and closes her notebook.

Emma can't help but smile. "No problem." She watches the girl go, expression softening even more when she glances back like she can't believe her eyes. "That was…"

"Weird," says Henry. He chucks his empty cup into the nearest bin. "Totally weird."

"You know what, kid?" She drapes her arms over his shoulders. "I have a feeling it's about to get weirder."

…

When they get in, Emma runs to the boiler and puts the heating on straight away. She strips out of her boots, her big thick coat, and her hat. Henry does the same, shivering. Even though she was wearing gloves, her fingers feel like icicles. They burn a little as they begin to thaw out.

"I'll tell you what, Henry," Emma sighs, as she leans back against the radiator. Her hands meet cool metal. She's impatient for it to heat up. "I think we need-"

"Another hot chocolate? This time _with_ cinnamon," he offers.

Her smile is blinding. "Right you are."

By the time Emma's made them both another cup of chocolate, she's starting to feel warm again. The radiators are hot, the steam from the chocolate is comforting. She carries the mugs carefully through to the living room, and lowers them onto coasters. Henry is curled up on the sofa, reading.

"The answer machine is flashing," he mentions, glancing up from his book.

Maybe it's David or someone. David's always leaving messages on her answering machine, especially when he hasn't heard from her in a while. She presses the red blinking button.

"Um, hey Emma," sounds the voice. Emma raises her eyebrows. Elsa. "It's Elsa." _Go figure,_ she thinks. "I guess you're not in, but could you ring me back?"

"Huh," says Emma.

"Is everything okay, Mom?" asks Henry from the sofa.

"I sure hope so."

She reaches for the phone and presses the contacts button. She finds the number, and presses the phone to her ear. The beeping sounds in Emma's ear as it rings out in Elsa's house. The line connects.

"Hello?"

"Elsa, hey. It's Emma," she says, somewhat awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

"Oh yeah. Of course I am," Her voice immediately brightens. "I just thought I'd let you know about FWC."

"Oh. Right." She lets herself relax a little. So there isn't a sudden emergency or anything.

"You're coming, right?"

"Of course I am." She sinks back down into the sofa and picks up her chocolate with her free hand. There's a shock of cold cream as she brings it to her lips.

"Good, because you're gonna be in a car with Killian."

"I… am?" Emma can't ignore the sudden wave in her stomach she gets at that. It makes her feel foolish.

"Your houses are close to each other, that's all. It makes sense."

"Yeah."

"So Friday, the car's gonna drive you guys to the hotel, ready for Saturday. Did you know that?" Elsa has her business voice on. It's the kind of voice reserved for reading script notes out loud and talking to the producers.

"Nope." Emma pops the p.

"That's strange," she says, a frown in her voice. "You were supposed to get all of this information from your agent."

Emma's chuckle comes bubbling to the surface. _David_. "My agent's hopeless," she says fondly.

"We have a hotel room each. Don't worry, it's all paid for. And we're all gonna have dinner together, okay? It's a winter con tradition, so you _have_ to be in the hotel lobby at seven."

"That's fine with me."

"And the car's picking you up at twelve, right?"

"Gotcha."

"So, that's all I wanted to say," she says, and Emma can hear her smile. "So I'm gonna have to go, because I've gotta ring a few other people but I thought I'd ring you first because it's all new to you. If you have any questions, let me know."

"I will," she promises. Or she could give David a good kick up the ass and tell him to get his act together.

Goodbyes are exchanged. The phone beeps when Emma hangs up. She only just places it back on the hook when it rings again. She and Henry exchange glances _,_ mutual expressions of 'seriously' on their faces. She picks up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Swan!"

Emma gives a little sigh, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Killian," she says.

"You say Killian in that exasperated tone, Swan but you're smiling. I can feel it."

She can't help it. She smiles properly. "Oh whatever."

"You enjoy my company more than you'd like to admit. I can feel that too, lass."

He's stepping into dangerous territory. She remembers how her stomach swooped when she thought about sharing a car with him. "What do you want?"

"To talk about FWC, of course."

"Well you're a little too late, buddy. Elsa beat you to it."

"Oh ye of little faith, I think you're mistaken."

She frowns. "Nope. Pretty sure that was Elsa on the phone five seconds ago."

"Did she ask you what you're wearing?"

"What I'm wearing?" She's frowning even more. She casts her eyes over to Henry, and then quickly leaves the room, lowering her voice. "I'm not one for phone sex, Killian. Why don't you call one of your many girlfriends?"

"Jealousy sounds good on you, Swan." There's a moment where she scoffs and he sits in amused silence. "But that's not what I'm after. I was wondering what you're wearing for FWC."

A pause. She narrows her eyes, staring suspiciously into space. "...Why?"

"I was musing, as I do-"

"- as you do."

"And I came up with an entirely brilliant plan. Why don't we co-ordinate outfits?"

She has to let the words sink in. And then, with the same suspicious tone: "...Why?"

"I have the firm belief that it would cause quite a stir. The fans already love us together. They already ship us, and I for one-"

"Hang on. They _what_ us?"

He chuckles, breathy and low. "Ship us. Ship."

"What does that mean?" She remembers asking Elsa what 'shipping' meant, but she received a very vague reply.

"It means they want us together, darling," he says, almost like a purr. The sound sends shivers down her spine; shivers she quickly tries to get rid of.

"Okay, well that's kinda creepy."

"But not an unwelcome thought?"

She chooses to ignore the comment. "I mean, they don't even know us, and if they did they'd notice-"

"The unwavering sexual tension?"

"-that nothing is between us _at all._ " She doesn't know who she's trying to convince. Herself or Killian. She's caught herself thinking about him a little too often.

There's a silence; uncomfortable and dragging. When Killian eventually speaks, his voice is softer. "Aye, you're right."

"I am." Her voice wavers a little.

"Well, Swan," he says. His voice is still soft. There's something else in there too, but she can't exactly work out what it is. "In that case, it doesn't matter about coordinating clothing. I was merely joking. I'll see you next week."

"Hang on, if you were joking why did you ring me?"

"I'll see you next week," he repeats.

"I'll see you then," she says, weakly.

They hang up. It's uncomfortable and it leaves a silence ringing around the whole house. She suddenly feels colder. It must be the weather, she tells herself. The weather.


	12. Chapter 12

**Ohohoho, I've been waiting to post this chapter the entire fic. Enjoy!**

* * *

On Friday, the day before the winter con, Emma is a nervous wreck. She paces around her empty house, trying to calm her swooping stomach. Her bags are packed. They sit in the hallway, full of clothes because she couldn't decide what to wear. David's already found her a stylist, but Emma isn't sure she wants one.

"That's ridiculous!" she told him. "I don't need someone to pick out clothes for me. What do I want that for?"

But a few hours later when she stood, hands on her hips, staring at her wardrobe, she was beginning to wonder whether she _should_ ring her stylist. Or maybe she should ring Ariel, but Emma's always been too stubborn for her own good. So instead, she stared at her wardrobe, hoping for a miracle. In the end she decided on dresses, since she's probably going to be photographed a lot. She also threw in a pair of jeans.

Now she stands at the window, waiting for her ride.

A car pulls up and Emma peels back the curtain netting to peek out. Sure enough, the car is there in the vision of a sleek black jag. Her eyes catch Killian, who's skipping up her path.

She steps away from the window, heels clicking against the wood. She had decided against a dress for the journey. Instead, she'd opted for her black skirt and tights.

When the doorbell rings, Emma's heart lurches. She begins to wonder why she agreed to do the winter con. The fans frighten her on the best of days. This weekend, she's going to be non-stop surrounded by fans. Emma is anything but a coward, and so she pushes her fear aside and opens the door.

Killian's face grins up at her. "Swan." He is fully kitted out in his leather. Leather jacket, leather boots. Are those… leather pants? No. They're not, she realises after her eyes spend too long lingering. Black jeans.

If he noticed, he doesn't say. His eyes are firmly watching her face, which is arranged into an expression of awe.

"You look…"

"I know," she tells him, stepping out, her boot colliding with the concrete.

She locks the door and slips the keys into her jacket pocket, not her bag. Old habits die hard. When she turns, she almost walks straight into him, he's so close. He clears his throat and awkwardly steps onto the next step, losing half a head in height. It's then that she's able to take a good look at his face.

"Are you wearing… eyeliner? Again?"

"Well love, you're looking rather close. Can't keep your eyes away from mine?" He steps back up onto the step, inches away from her.

A moment passes between them, where she meets his eyes. Those blue ones stare right back at her. "Turn around," she says eventually, softly. "And keep walking."

He gives her one of those cocky looks, eyebrow raised, tongue soothing his lower lip. Then he turns, walking down the rest of the steps. She follows him, feeling a little more confident.

The journey takes forever, mostly to do with the traffic. They sit in jams almost all the way there.

"It's because of the con," Killian explains after her third bout of complaining. "It's one of the biggest. People come from all over the world."

Emma doesn't quite know what to say to that. But suddenly, she feels a little overwhelmed. Killian must notice her discomfort because he reaches across and rubs her arm. She doesn't move away from his touch. In fact, she quite likes it. The thought terrifies her.

"Have you read the script?"

"Not yet," says Emma. "They came through the post moments before I had to leave. I thought there was no point starting them."

"Ah, I see." He leans back in his seat, a strange smile twisting the corner of his lips. The expression makes Emma's eyes narrow.

"What? What is it?"

"Nothing." He presses his lips together. There's a playful tone to his voice. "It's just…"

" _What?"_

"Would you like to borrow my script?" He's already reaching in his bag.

"If you'd be so kind."

He holds it out for her and she snatches it off him. She doesn't read it properly, eyes skimming over the words, but she gets the gist of it. She almost goes past the thing he wants her to see, but the wording makes her go back. She reads it, a slight heat rising to her cheeks.

" _Really?_ This is why you're so smug?"

"Me? Smug? Never!" he says smugly.

She hands the scripts back to him. "So?"

"So?"

" _So_ , it's a love scene." She shrugs. "There was bound to be one sooner or later."

If he's put off by her response, he doesn't show it. "Not quite a love scene… love."

"Any scene with kissing is considered a love scene." She gives him a look. "And this isn't _just_ kissing."

"You're right. It isn't." They fall silent, but not for long. "But there _will_ be a love scene. There's a _reason_ the show's on at nine o'clock."

She swats his arm lightly. "Why can't you _ever_ be professional?"

"Bloody hell!" he calls out as he bats her hand away. "You wound me! And I'm always professional." He pauses, pursing his lips in thought. "So in other news, do you want to practice?"

She snorts at that. A snort that quickly turns into a giggle, which soon evolves into a laugh. He joins in and then they're laughing in the back of the car like a couple of kids. Whatever tension there was on the phone last week is gone and Emma's beginning to think the impossible; they're friends.

* * *

They check into the hotel one after another. No-one else seems to have arrived. Or they already have, and have decided to hide out in the rooms for the time being. Their rooms are very close so they make their way up there together. Someone carries their bags for them. It's all very posh.

"Did Elsa tell you about our con tradition?" Killian asks as they stroll down the endless corridor.

"You guys all go for a meal together? Yeah, she mentioned it. She told me I had to be in the lobby." Threatened, more like.

"We have a little bit of a party too… Hey, don't give me that look! It's good. They clear out one of the ball rooms especially for us."

"Who wants to party? We have to be up early tomorrow. Seriously, how do you guys cope with these crazy schedules?" The amount of makeup she had to put on to cover the bags under her eyes is ridiculous.

"Don't get me wrong. We'll all be knackered by the end of it." He flashes her a smile. "Anyway, I'll retire to my room now."

She hadn't even realised they were at their rooms. Yet here she is, staring at the number panel on her door, but not really seeing it.

"I hope to see you later, love. Don't let a man drink on his own." Another smile, a gentle touch of her arm and he's gone.

Emma stands there, watching after him, in a daze. She blinks out of it, murmurs something about pulling herself together and swipes the door with her card.

The room is _huge_ , nothing like she's ever been in before. A king sized bed takes pride of place in the middle of the room. There's a dresser, two bed sized tables, and even a third table.

The bathroom isn't a shoe box. Not only does it have a shower, but also a round, shell shaped bath. Everything is the colour of silver and gold. It's beautiful. She wonders what Killian makes of it. Then again, he's probably seen it all before.

After a good half hour of rooting through doors and searching closets, Emma decides to take a shower. It's powerful and hot and steamy. She can feel all her muscles unknot as soon as the water hits her shoulders, like a blessing. The only thing is, the water does nothing to calm her nerves.

All she can think about is that Frozen Winter Con (being face-to-face with fans and having to talk about her character) and… Killian. And that almost-quite-but-not-exactly love scene they're going to have to do. She imagines his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his body pressed against hers and she trembles.

She scolds herself.

She is a _professional._ So is Killian. When she had to kiss him before it wasn't romantic. It was robotic and a little tiring. The same movements over and over again.

Then she can't help but think of him _actually_ kissing her, without the cameras. She can picture it in her mind. The steam is making her feel really hot. Suddenly she has to get out of the shower.

Emma spends a while walking around in the big fluffy towel they provided, deciding what to wear. She doesn't really want to wear her jeans, not for a meal and a party, so she goes with her red-pink dress. She styles her hair in loose curls as opposed to the waves she wears on a day to day basis. After redoing her make-up, she's done.

At ten to seven she slips on her heels, grabs her bag and steps out into the corridor. She's alone as she makes her way to the elevator. After a short descent, she's greeted by light and sound.

Everyone _'s_ there - the main actors, the writer and director as well as a few of the producers. She was right to wear a dress. Everyone else is dolled up too.

"Emma!" Elsa squeals, running over to Emma in tower like heels. She's all in white. "I thought you weren't coming! I thought I'd have to drag you out."

"I didn't wanna be too early," says Emma, but she's not sure the other woman is listening. Elsa is craning her neck over the crowd of people, looking for someone.

"Guys, I found her," she calls, pointing obviously to Emma.

Killian and Graham gently push past people, making their way over to them. They both look very handsome in their suits. Killian wears black, whereas Graham wears a dark blue. When they see her, both their eyes widen a touch.

"Swan-"

"Emma-"

"You look-" they both say at the same time.

"Bloody gorgeous."

"Stunning."

They turn to stare at each other. A muscle in Killian's jaw jumps.

"Thank you," Emma says. She can't help it; she blushes. Their eyes are all wide and sparkly.

"We should probably get a move on," Elsa says. "Before someone trips over your tongues. C'mon Emma."

Emma, glad for Elsa's distraction, follows behind her as everyone makes their way into the hotel restaurant. A table is set up (more like five tables pushed together) right in front of a view of the lake outside the hotel. Lights sparkle on it in the dark- colours of orange, red, yellow.

Emma's sat next to Elsa and, to her utter dismay, Gold. Killian is right at the other end of the table. He's watching her as she sits down. At least Graham is opposite her.

Everyone chats excitedly as they take their seats, mostly about the convention. Drinks are ordered, and no expense is spared. Emma gets the feeling it's going to be a long night, but not a night she won't enjoy. She might even make some new friends.

"So are you excited for tomorrow?" she asks Gold, who turns his head slowly towards her.

"No," he says.

And that's the end of that conversation. She resists the urge to snap back at him "Please yourself". Instead, she busies herself with looking down the menu.

"Are _you_ excited?" comes a voice that is certainly not Gold's.

Emma looks up into Graham's soft brown eyes. "Terrified," she admits.

"Good. A few nerves is always good."

"I think it's more than just a few nerves. My stomach's been in knots all week."

"You'll be fine." He smiles that warm smile she can't help but return.

Her eyes fall back down to her menu. She eventually decides on a steak. She's at a fancy hotel, she's already guzzling champagne so why not? As it turns out, the steak is beautiful. It tops every other meal she's had in her whole life. When she tells Graham that, she gets the feeling that he's laughing at her.

As the plates are being cleared away, Emma catches a snippet of Elsa's conversation. They're talking about the new scripts.

"I think the fans are gonna _love_ Elizabeth's new dynamic with Rose."

"Screw the fans," Emma cuts in. " _I'm_ gonna love Elizabeth's new dynamic with Rose. It's about time we had some more screen time."

"Speaking of screen time…" Elsa raises her eyebrows. "There's a certain scene in there...:"

Emma arranges her face into something impassive. Since her thoughts in the shower, she's been trying to push the scene out of her mind. "Yeah, I know."

"You've read the scripts already?"

Emma shrugs. "Killian showed me one."

"Ah right." She gulps down the rest of her wine and promptly refills it. This shocks Emma. She's only ever seen her as her calm, collected co-star.

"Yeah, he made his thoughts on the scene very clear." Emma rolls her eyes, but it's playful.

"He _did_?"

The surprised tone makes her raise her eyebrows. "Yeah… why?"

"It's just Killian has _always_ had to do those types of scenes, but he never discusses it with anyone ever. He keeps a strictly professional head. Detaches himself. It's amazing how he can do it."

" _Killian_?"

"I can vouch for that mate," comes a voice Emma recognises as Will's.

"We're talking about the same Killian?"

"Who else?" Elsa chuckles.

"But he's a… a flirt." And he's _always_ flirting with her. All the time.

"Yeah he is. He always has been." Elsa's words are starting to slur. "But not when it comes to scenes like that. Like I said he detaches himself."

"Huh."

She sips more of her drink. "But he's… different with you, Emma. He never shuts up about you. Ever. I shouldn't be saying this, but I think he might actually-"

"If you'll excuse me," says Graham. He rises from his chair with a tight smile. "I'm just going to go to the bathroom."

Emma watches him go, a frown on her face. Her ears are swimming with Elsa's words. She thinks he might what? Elsa's now in conversation with Will and for some reason, Emma doesn't want to interrupt them. She's not sure she wants to know, especially not with Graham's reaction.

Graham returns when everyone is leaving for one of the ballrooms. He creeps up behind her, gently touching her arm to make her aware of his presence.

"So what happens now, then?" she asks, turning her head to look up at him.

"There's music, a lot of dancing, some drunken speeches about far we've all come."

"So pretty much your average party then?" She smiles up at him.

He returns her smile. "Exactly."

Tonight she can get through. She might even have fun. It's tomorrow she's worried about. She feels like she should be as prepared as possible. She doesn't breach the subject of the con until she's sat down on a table in the ballroom and Graham returns with two drinks for them.

"What can I expect tomorrow?" She asks, sipping through a straw.

He tucks himself into the seat next to her, lips pursed in thought. "A lot of questions," he finally says. "You'll end up repeating yourself. Some fans might even ask you personal questions, but just shrug it off."

"Personal questions?"

"The minority. Just smile through it. There's a main panel. There's also a twilight panel that some of us might get picked for but that all depends." He shrugs.

"Right," she breathes out.

"Relax," he says with an easy smile. "I remember how I felt when I had my first con. Terrified. But there's a _lot_ of love there. It's heart warming."

"And what if I say the wrong thing?" She's always been one to say the wrong thing. She has a fiery hot temper and she gets _super_ defensive if someone rubs her up the wrong way.

"You won't." Unwavering confidence, just like David. Emma smiles at him. They really have become good friends.

Emma continues to chat to Graham for the next hour. She casts her eyes around the ballroom, though it doesn't look much like a ballroom at the moment. All the chairs and tables are pushed against the wall to allow a big, dancing space in the middle of the room. Lights of blue, pink and red reflect against the polished floor. And the music isn't _that_ bad. She's been to many parties where there was a school disco atmosphere. This certainly doesn't feel like that.

Some people are sat drinking, chatting loudly over the music. Others are dancing; in couples, in groups, on their own. Elsa looks as though she's having a whale of a time. She's dancing with a woman with red hair. Emma's fairly sure the woman isn't part of the cast (she never forgets a face), so she must be one of Elsa's friends. Though this is essentially a cast party, other people have been allowed in. It's a good thing, otherwise the room would be sparse. At the moment, it's quite crowded but not _too_ crowded, not like Killian's awful party.

Emma's had her eyes on Killian most of the night. Even though she's tried to tear her glance away, it somehow always found its way back to him. He hasn't been dancing as such, but he's been socialising, and swaying slightly to the music. She keeps her eyes on his face, and the way his face slowly breaks out into a smile.

He left the room about a few minutes ago, Elsa on his tail. She wonders why, and she's hoping the reasons don't include his or her hotel room. The thought makes something bubble in anger, but instinct wins out. Elsa and Killian do _not_ fancy each other.

She's on her third drink when he finds her. He's marching over to her, a steely look in his eyes. A few dark strands of hair fall out of place in his determination. His hands are curled into fists at his sides.

"Emma," he says as soon as he reaches her. The use of her first name catches her attention. She looks up at him expectantly. "Dance with me." He says it like it takes all of his courage. Maybe she _is_ getting school disco feelings.

"Uh…" She and Graham exchange glances.

"No. Sorry." He closes his eyes briefly. When they open again, they're liquid. He's doing that heavy-lidded inviting thing again. He slides into the chair next to her, shuffling right up to her so his leg is pressed against her leg, and his face is inches from hers. His voice drops a notch, but he's so close that she can hear him over the music. "Dance with me, love?"

She takes a slow slip of her drink to steady herself. "I don't dance. Sorry."

"You don't dance? Never?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Nope. I'm not very good at it."

"Well, it's simple really," he says. She gives him a look and he continues. "I can teach you."

She takes another sip of her drink. He's so close that she can smell his cologne. "I don't wanna be taught. I don't wanna dance. Sorry."

"Make an exception." There's a pleading tone to his voice. "For me."

She narrows her eyes. Why is he so bothered? "Why do you want me to dance?"

"Why don't you want to? Is it because you're afraid of getting too close to me, love?"

"No!"

Yes. Well, not entirely. But that's certainly part of it. She's already enjoying his company a little _too_ much. She's even thinking about him kissing her, for god's sake! It's mortifying. It's dangerous to get too close to him.

"Prove it."

She stares him out. He doesn't drop his eyes, and they're beginning to make her blush. " _Fine_." It's just a dance, anyway. It's only a dance. She turns to Graham apologetically. "I won't be long."

"By all means, take your time." He's wearing that tight, funny smile again. "I think I might see if Elsa or someone wants a dance." He stands up and promptly disappears into the crowds. Emma frowns as she watches him.

"Eyes on me, love," comes Killian's voice. It's soft. She turns back to him.

He takes her hands. His are warm and comforting, but she doesn't want to think about that. He walks backwards, leading her to the middle of the floor, where everyone's dancing around them. The song switches over. It's slow. She narrows her eyes at him, wondering whether he's planned this. The shrug and slightly surprised smile tell her otherwise.

He's a little shy as he places a hand on her shoulder. It's odd seeing him so shy. Usually he's so confident when they're acting. But here, he's careful as he pulls her close. His other hand finds her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

Then they're dancing, stepping slowly, but not really in time to the music. Emma can't say she's ever slow danced before, but it's easy. The hard bit is trying to find his eyes without blushing. Twice she looks away, embarrassed. He's the same.

Half way through the song, he pulls her nearer so his face is against hers, so close that the hair on his jaw brushes her cheek. She can feel him breathing. He exhales an unsteady breath when she places a hand against his chest. She can feel the deep rise and fall.

It's curious. She wonders…

It takes all her courage, but she's Emma Swan and she's not afraid of anything. Slowly, she removes her hand and replaces it with her head, resting it gently against his neck.

His breath hitches. She doesn't miss it. She doesn't miss the bob of his throat either, as he swallows thickly. Elsa's words echo in her ears: _He's different with you, Emma._ Could this be different with her? Is he like this with anyone else?

His hand moves to softly stroke her hair, weaving his fingers through the strands. She wishes she could hear his heart, but the music's too loud. She longs to be alone. With him. Not in this crowded place, with so many eyes.

But that's dangerous thinking.

It's all dangerous thinking.

What is _she_ thinking?

Abruptly, she moves her head off his chest, and looks up at him. Her eyes are wide. She's already untangling herself from his arms.

"Emma?" he asks, alarmed. "Love, what's wrong?"

Though his eyes are on her, she avoids his gaze. "I'm sorry, I…"

"Emma?" he repeats.

"I… can't."

Without looking at him, she bolts for the door.


	13. Chapter 13

The next day Emma gets out of bed at seven on the dot, minus the aid of her alarm clock, wide awake without even a drop of coffee. Maybe she _is_ getting used to the crazy schedules. She promptly showers, and dries her hair into loose waves. After a while of sitting on the fence about her clothes, she decides against her jeans, and goes for a dress.

At eight she heads down for breakfast. It's in the restaurant they were at last night. To her utter relief, there isn't any sign of Graham or Killian. Quickly, she makes her way over to Elsa and slides into the chair opposite her. Every breakfast food she can think of is spread out in front of them: toast, cereal, jam, marmalade, french bread, tiger bread, every other bread in the world. She hasn't seen so much ham and cheese in her entire life. A rainbow of juices sit in jugs, condensation running down the sides.

"Hi," she says, unable to tear her eyes away from the food. Her mouth is starting to water. If she could have breakfast like this everyday, she'd be happy.

Elsa groans, rubbing her forehead. " _Please_ not so loud. I have a hangover."

"I _knew_ we shouldn't have had a party," says Emma, smugly. She leans back in her seat, arms folded.

Elsa glances up at Emma. "Why aren't you hungover?"

"I guess I can hold my drink."

" _And_ you left early," she accuses.

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "You saw that, huh?"

"Couldn't miss it. One moment you were all wrapped up in Killian's arms, and the next he was watching you leave like some kicked puppy."

Emma doesn't say anything. She busies herself by grabbing a french roll from the platter in front of her. She breaks it with a satisfying crunch. It's still warm and it smells _amazing_.

Elsa's eyes are still on her. "What happened there?"

Emma grabs the strawberry jam and a knife. She smooths it over her bread and takes a generous bite. The crust is crispy and the middle is light and fluffy as clouds. Not to mention, the jam is one of the tastiest she's had in a long time. There are chunks of strawberry. It _has_ to be home made.

"Emma?"

She chews slowly, keeping her eyes on her plate and only her plate. Crumbs dust the surface. A blob of jam falls from her bread and onto the plate. She mops it up with a second piece of bread.

"Emma, come on. I thought we were friends. You can trust me."

Carefully, she lifts her eyes to Elsa's. They're warm and concerned and hold nothing but sincerity and honesty. Emma feels a pang of guilt. She struggles to swallow her bread.

"I don't dance," she eventually says. "I can't dance."

Elsa's voice lowers an octave. "No, that's not all. There's something else."

"Can't _you_ trust _me_?"

"Listen, Emma-" Elsa's eyes dart around the room, hunting for eavesdroppers. "I know you have a… certain _image_ of Killian but-"

"This is not about Killian."

"Then what is it about?" Her eyes soften. "I know what he comes across as. You said it yourself, he's a flirt. He _always_ has been. But he's… he's not a bad person. Sometimes I think it's just an act. He puts it up to protect himself. It's his armour."

His armour.

 _His armour._

She has walls. He has armour. It's all becoming _too_ much for her. She always had an inkling that the flirting was an act, that it was there to protect him, but she didn't really want to believe it. It would make them _too_ alike. It would make them-

Kindred spirits.

All of a sudden, Emma isn't very hungry.

"I'm going to finish getting ready," she tells Elsa as she dabs at her mouth with a napkin and rises from the table, looking anywhere but at the woman in front of her.

"Emma-"

But Emma's already halfway across the restaurant. She doesn't look at anyone as she makes her way to her hotel room. Thankfully, none of the other actors seem to be about, but she doesn't want to take chances, so she moves as quickly as possible. She doesn't feel safe until she's in her room, staring at the walls.

She has an hour until she's supposed to be at the car and she reasons with herself for the whole time. So she and Killian have a few things in common but that doesn't mean a _thing_. She has many things in common with other people such as David and Mary Margaret. They were always bound to have _some_ similarities. It makes sense. Maybe she'd feel a little better about it, if she hadn't imagined him kissing her without the cameras, or thought about his smile. She's starting to turn into a pathetic teenage girl, she can feel it.

When the hour's up, she grabs her bag and makes her way out the room. She's only managed to take a few steps into the corridor before she hears the familiar sound of, "Ah, Miss Swan."

She turns around. Gold steps out of the shadows. Has he been lurking there the entire time? The thought makes her skin crawl.

"What do you want?"

"I have something to tell you. Something you might be interested in." He's wearing an expensive suit and a strange, twisted smile. It's like he takes pleasure in freaking people out. She can imagine him waiting outside everyone's hotel rooms, ready to jump out with his cryptic messages and uncomfortable conversations.

She hovers impatiently. "Make it quick. The cars leave soon."

"It's a warning."

Emma can't stop from rolling her eyes. She remembers the man's last warning. "Actually on second thought, not interested."

She has no desire to stay and listen to Gold's petty warnings or play his games. If he's trying to scare her, he's going to have to try a lot harder than that. She's back to walking down the corridor. He follows, but a few paces behind. At least he's not breathing down her neck like some creepy shadow she can't shake.

"You'll want to hear it," he calls at her.

"Not interested."

"Stay away from him," is the last thing she hears before the elevator doors close.

* * *

She's sharing a car with Killian again. He doesn't say much, apart from an initial hello when she slides into the car. She wishes he would speak to her. It might do something to tame the moths gnawing at her stomach. In terms of nerves, she was fine this morning but now it's really hitting her.

Maybe she should apologise but she doesn't know what to say. _Sorry I didn't dance with you. Sorry I have a hard time trusting people but I mean you're a flirt and you probably dance with everyone all the time. And really, I have Henry to think about. Oh and I haven't been with anyone seriously in a really long time, years actually, because I really do have trust issues._

The thought of that conversation makes her shudder.

When they approach the building and she sees the crowds of people, her eyes become saucers. People of all shapes, sizes and ages gather round, laughing, talking. They're all dressed up. She spots superheroes, vampires, witches. Everything is a whirl of colour, like she's just opened a paint box.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Killian breathes in her ear. She didn't expect him to be so close, especially after completely ignoring her for the past hour.

"Yes," is all she can say.

They skirt around the building, to the back, where a number of entrances are. The crowds don't thin. Instead, there are hundreds more people in costume, waiting expectantly, eyes trained on their car. It's like they're trying to work out who's in there.

"You okay, Swan?"

"It's just a little overwhelming."

"Tell me about it," he says as the car pulls up. "And it's about to get even more overwhelming." Someone comes round to open the door. "Ready?" he asks.

"Nope."

The last thing she hears is his quiet laughter before the car door is opened and they're thrown into hysterical cheering. Killian steps out first. Her eyes are on his legs as he stretches, the only part of him she can see. All of a sudden, his hand appears, open and inviting. Suspiciously, she stares at it. How confident he is to offer her a hand after last night.

No, not confident.

A gentleman.

Hesitantly, she takes his hand. He helps her out of the car and out into colour and noise. Fans are calling and waving and screeching, their screams merging together. Through the sea she hears an "Emma" or a "Killian", but she's not really paying attention.

Killian releases her hand like the skin burns him, or perhaps it's because he doesn't want people to see. That's okay. They're not together but it just _proves_ that his words are just that; words. She's not _offended_ , but he must see something in her expression because his eyes soften and he gently bumps his fingers against hers, though he doesn't take her hand again. A shock runs through her at his touch.

He leans forward. "Follow my lead." His voice is a soft murmur in her ear, some sanity in this flood of madness. Then Killian straightens, tugs on the hem on his shirt, and flashes a bright smile in the direction of the fans. Or some of the fans. He can't exactly look at all of them at the same time.

He begins a normal pace towards the door of the building, waving at different people. They're leaning over the railings, hands outstretched and insistent, holding out notebooks and pictures for him to sign. But he can't. Neither of them can. They've already been told.

She follows behind him, taking strides until she's side by side with him, equal. She mirrors his actions, putting on her best smile, and waving. She doesn't give much eye contact, sure it would do _nothing_ to help the nerves that gnaw away at her.

He holds the door open for her. When she thanks him, he offers her a warm smile, one he reserves for their alone moments when he's reassuring her of something. Whatever tension had grasped them in the car has gone, though Emma senses not completely. She understands why. He wants to make her feel at ease. He's thinking of _her_.

The next wave in her stomach has nothing to do with nerves.

The door closes behind them, shutting out the noise. Emma breathes out a sigh of relief.

"See, Swan," says Killian, giving her a gentle rub on the back. "That wasn't so bad. I'd even go as far to say you're a natural."

"Ha," she says, weakly.

Graham and Elsa have already arrived. They make their way over to her. She's relieved to see the corner of Graham's lips twitch up into one of those warm smiles. Whatever mood he was in last night has evaporated. Thank God. She's starting to wonder what's with the men in her life and their mood swings.

Once everyone else from their show has arrived, they're told the schedule. Their panel is one of the earliest, taking place in only half an hour. Emma doesn't know how to feel about that. Should she be glad she's getting it over and done with, or frightened that she doesn't have much time to prepare?

The next half an hour goes by agonisingly slowly. They're not allowed to look around the actual con, which is a bummer. She really wants to see Henry (Violet's parents gave him a lift, since Emma got the actual tickets) but that doesn't seem possible.

It isn't too long until they're commuting, accompanied by bodyguards, to the panel room. They wait beside the stage, though Emma can hear the crowd's excited murmur and scraping of chairs from the other side as they settle.

"Oh God," she breathes out.

Graham is right beside her, stroking her arm. "Don't worry about it."

A woman comes running over. She has bouncy blonde curls and a vibrant smile which lights up the room. Everyone turns to watch her, some greet her. Graham murmurs something about how he's never seen her before - she must be new to hosting the panel.

"Hi everyone," she says, returning their smiles. "My name's Ashley and I'm gonna be the host. So you know the drill - I'll go back up there and call your names and then you just come out."

Then she disappears again, up the stairs. A cheer erupts as she enters the stage, shoes banging, hands clapping. All the actors seem to be listening to the crowd. Elsa has a smile on her face. Will bumps Robin teasingly with his shoulder, cocking his eyebrows.

"Oh God," Emma repeats. She digs her nails into the palms of her hands. She can do this, for God's sake! She's Emma Swan.

But Emma Swan isn't great with crowds. She never has been. In fact, she's not very good with _people._ Not when she had to make a speech about recycling in front of her whole year at school, not when she had to explain why her grades were dropping to the principal, not even when she had to beg her foster parents not to send her away to another family.

"Okay guys," comes Ashley's voice echoing around. There's a shout in response. "We're all _very_ excited to have Kings and Queens here!" There's another cheer, but it becomes a buzz in Emma's head. So do the rest of Ashley's words, though Emma's sure it's something along the lines of introductions.

"So give it up for our first guest-"

Everything slows down. There's a rush of blood in Emma's ears, and everything suddenly sounds detached. Her palms sweat. Her face feels too hot. She grasps for control on her nerves, on her emotions.

"- the amazing writer and showrunner, Belle French!"

Everything falls back into focus. That's one thing about Emma Swan - She refuses to let anything overpower her, even if they're nerves. Especially if they're nerves. She has to own her emotions.

Belle gives everyone a thumbs up and a small smile before she runs up those stairs in her heels. Ashley calls other actors onto the stage in a stream of introductions: Gold, Robin, Will, Elsa and a few others. The more names are called out, the more she looks for familiarity. She catches Graham's eyes. He's quick to make his way over to her, but he only _just_ reaches her when-

"Everyone give it up for the servant with _style,_ Toby James, played by the lovely Graham Humbert."

Seeing the panic on Emma's face, he reaches for her hand. Before she knows what's happening, her hand is in his.

"You'll be fine, Emma." To her complete surprise, he kisses her on the forehead. It's slow and firm and for a second afterwards, he rests his head against hers. Stunned, she watches him go out into the screaming crowd.

Only when she turns away from the screams, does she realise Killian is watching her. Has he been watching her the whole time? He gives her a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. One of his hands is curled into a fist at his side. Though it's none of his business, she feels an immediate urge to explain herself. Perhaps it's the sudden heaviness in her heart.

She takes a step forward.

"Killian, I-"

"The new kid on the block. And the only one who has stolen Alexander's heart, though we've all tried. Rose, played by the very beautiful Emma Swan!"

"That's your cue," he tells her. His words aren't exactly cold, but they're not friendly either.

"I-"

"Go."

She hesitates. They stare at each other.

"Emma Swan?" comes the voice. "Are you coming?"

" _Go."_

She turns and leaves, stepping out onto the stage. She's blinded by lights and cameras and noise. The crowd is going wild, chanting her name. She has to remind herself to smile. As she makes her way to the end of the stage, she waves, which gets her another cheer. Blindly, she takes a seat next to Graham, who gives her a warm smile and a pat on the hand.

"And now here he is. You know him as Alexander. Please welcome the gorgeous Killian Jones!"

Killian runs onto the stage, full of life. The crowd are screaming and chorusing and his smile is contagious. He gives them a wave and sits down, next to Emma. He doesn't look at her as he pulls his chair in.

"Oh my God," Ashley says, "Did you hear that reaction, you guys? Oh my God."

For the first time, Emma gets a good look at the fans. The majority of them are dressed up in costume. She can't help but admire them. The gorgeous gowns of lace and netting and silk must be awful to wear. Beautiful, but awful. The energy in the room is contagious and soon Emma finds herself smiling. This time it's genuine, though she's still having trouble hearing over the sound of her own pulse, and her hands haven't entirely stopped shaking. Killian Jones and his stupid mood swings are not going to ruin this for her.

"Welcome to the panel," Ashley twitters. "We're so so _so_ glad you're here. We have a whole lot of questions for you guys. Too many to fit into an hour slot, but I'm gonna try cause we wanna know _everything_. Don't we?" There's a thunder like cheer from the fans. "First things first, we have to welcome newcomer, Emma Swan. Welcome, Emma!"

There's another cheer. Once again, Emma finds herself smiling. "Thank you," she says, a little shyly.

"What's it like being here?"

"Overwhelming," she admits, casting her eyes out into the crowds. They're intimidating, but not exactly in a bad way. "Good overwhelming." Her chest loosens a little, though she can still hear her heart pounding.

"Excellent."

Ashley begins by asking Belle a bunch of plot related questions: what's going to happen next season? What terrors are lurking round the corner? Will the horrible king ever die?

She answers as best she can, careful not to give anything away. If anyone has the answers, it's Belle. The actors are bound by strict rules in what they should and shouldn't say. An example of what they shouldn't say being the almost-but-not-quite love scene. Emma's cheeks tinge pink at the thought of that.

The host asks a number of questions to the actors. She asks what's next for Elsa's character, and what about Graham's character? How will Toby react to the kiss, especially with his feelings for Rose? Graham gives a long, complicated answer that makes Emma fall asleep. _Sorry Graham_ , she thinks.

"Speaking of that kiss…" Ashley says slowly.

They had to get it sooner or later. Killian nudges Emma's leg with his knee under the table. She turns her head towards him, but he's watching Ashley.

"We wanna know the _details_ , guys. What were they _thinking_? Oh my God. Is it love? Do they love each other? What if one of Alexander's exes come back, like Angel? We need to know these things."

Killian gives a rough laugh as he leans towards his microphone. "That's a lot of questions, love." His voice is a low murmur.

"Oh God, he called me love," she laughs, fanning herself.

Emma feels a pang in her chest at that. She fights a scowl and leans forward towards her own mic. "I think Rose likes him. A lot. She must do to take such a risk, otherwise she wouldn't risk the lives of herself and her mother."

Once the words are out Emma's mouth, she feels better for it. She'd been nervous at answering the questions, but now she's wondering why she was in the first place. She _knows_ her character.

"She's drawn to him," she continues, "He's a prince. As arrogant as he may be, she sees the good in him."

With a shock, Emma realises that the same is true for her and Killian, without the whole regal aspect or 'like' part. Definitely without the whole 'like' part. Though Emma thinks of Killian's knee against hers, and her heart skips a beat. She thinks of Ashley flirting with him, and her blood boils.

"And is that true for Alexander?" she prompts.

"Aye, it is," He answers. Emma can't help herself, she peeks over at him. His eyes flicker briefly to hers. "You've just got to look at how he was with other people to know how… different this is. How special she is to him." That gains an awww from the fans. "He's very tender with her, and it shows. He was different with Angel. Honestly, I believe he could love her, if he doesn't already."

"If he doesn't already, did you hear that guys?" Her laugh rings throughout the room. "Right, time to move onto some audience questions. We've got one over there. The girl in the green dress."

"Hi," she breaths into the microphone, which shakes with her hands. "I-I have a question for Elsa."

Elsa gives a warm smile. "Go ahead."

"I really liked that scene when she told Alexander to stand up to his father. Are we going to see more scenes like that?"

"I hope so," Elsa laughs. She looks over at Killian. "It was really fun. I like the idea of her telling Alexander how much of an idiot he is."

"Hey! I'm not an idiot!"

The audience laugh.

The next fan is much more confident. She speaks in a clear, loud voice: "So my question is for Killian."

"Take it away, love."

"Did Emma really fall asleep in that make-up chair?"

His answering laugh is booming. "Aye! She falls asleep all the time. _All_ the time."

"I'm sorry I'm not used to your crazy schedules yet," Emma scolds, smiling. "All I can say is I'm glad the hair and makeup team can fix the mess I become when I sleep."

"You turn into a mess?" says Ashley. "I find that hard to believe."

"A right mess." The audience laugh again. She decides to play on it. "My hair is a haystack. My makeup is smudged all over my face."

"And yet…" Killian begins, eyes sparkling. "She still manages to look beautiful."

That gains another "aww" from the fans. He raises his eyebrows at her. She looks away, blushing.

"You guys are so cute!" the host squeals.

She moves onto other questions, shifting the focus away from them. One fan asks Gold why he's so grumpy all the time. She's scolded for asking an inappropriate question by Ashley, but Emma thinks it's a perfect question. She would have liked to hear his answer.

When it ends, Emma turns to tell Graham she's spotted someone dressed up as Toby, but quickly regrets her decision. He's glaring at Killian. The expression _if looks could kill_ crosses her mind, and she suppresses a shudder.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! The love and support I'm getting for this is brilliant and lovely and I just want to say thank you so much. I'd love to reply to all the comments I get, so just know that's it's all appreciated. Also, I'm artandteaandstuff on Tumblr and I like making friends, so come say hi! Don't be shy!**

 **A few people I've noticed have commented asking about Dancing In America on both this fic and DIA, asking about updates and whatnot. I would really really REALLY like to continue it, but I didn't like where it was going or what I'd written about, so I gave up on it. It just seemed rushed and a bit rubbish. However, I am debating rewriting it to the standard I want because I love the concept. So those who want to know, keep a look out!**


	14. Chapter 14

Just when Emma thinks she can go back to her hotel room and relax, she's told she has to make an appearance on the Twilight panel, named so because of the time of day, not because of the successful vampire franchise (thank God.). The Twilight panel happens at FWC each year, but every time for a different show, it has four guests. This year the show is Kings and Queens so along with Killian, Graham and Elsa, Emma shows up at the panel. It's at eight o'clock.

The four of them go out for a drink to kill some time. They bounce light conversation between them, just about the fans, the panel earlier, and what to expect at the panel tonight. The tension between Graham and Killian doesn't ease, but Emma tries to ignore it as best as possible.

Soon enough, they're on their way back to the con, where the Twilight panel is.

It's a dark room, with dim lights reflecting against a black stage. There are lights on the actors specifically but they're not hot or bright. They're just perfect. _And_ the room is nice and warm. Emma wishes all panels were like this.

They tell her where to sit, in between Graham and Killian. Elsa is sat on the other side of Graham, the host on his other side. As soon as Emma's seated, someone passes her a glass of wine, silver liquid fizzing and sparkling in the light. She thanks them and takes a generous gulp. The buzz of alcohol in her system makes her feel better.

When Emma asks Killian what he's drinking, he tells her rum. Straight. She can't help but admire him. Now there's a man who can _definitely_ hold his drink.

"It's pretty dark in here," says Graham, completely relaxed as he looks around. He leans forward and places his drink on a shiny black top table. The audience, who are filing in, don't seem to phase him. "I've never done a Twilight panel before."

"Yeah, but at least you've done panels before."

"Relax, Emma, you were brilliant yesterday."

"Aye, I have to agree," comes Killian's voice. "Didn't I tell you that you're a natural?" She peeks over at him and his eyes are warm and soft. She quickly looks away, towards the audience. Big mistake. Seeing all the smiling faces and hearing their gasps causes a pang in her stomach. They're watching them expectantly, waiting for something to happen. Killian, clocking this, brings his microphone up to his lips. "Hello loves," he murmurs in a low voice into the microphone. The crowd scream. Emma and Elsa exchange glances.

"Ha!" laughs Julia, the host. "I was going to tell you all to say hi, but I guess you beat me to it." She already introduced herself to them about ten minutes ago, before the audience started filing in. She seems nice enough. Bubbily. "You might wanna follow Killian's lead."

They do, each giving their name and earning a shout from the crowd. Emma's surprised at the enthusiasm of her shout. Afterall, she's not been on the programme long, but thanks to Belle's amazing writing, they must like her.

The panel is much more relaxed than earlier. Whether it's the alcohol or the company she doesn't know, but she feels a lot more mellow. Maybe it's the type of questions. Most of them aren't even about the show. They're silly things, like if they could do one other thing rather than acting, what would they do, or would they rather be poor and happy or rich and miserable. Graham, Elsa and Emma all went for poor. Killian, being Killian, chose rich all the way.

"What can I say?" he says. "I like my seven bathrooms."

"Come off it," laughs Julia. "You do not have _seven_ bathrooms."

"I do! Don't I, Elsa?"

"You have four bathrooms."

Everyone laughs.

"Oh, whatever."

The interview takes a complete turn however, later in the night, when the alcohol is buzzing in their systems, emotions are high and one person chooses to ask a question about the show. More specifically, about Alexander and Rose.

"I think Alexander _definitely_ loves Rose," Killian says in reply, slurring a little. (The fan didn't even _ask_ if Alexander loved Rose. It was more something along the lines of what would they do for fun if they weren't chasing dragons.) "She's a fine lass. He adores her. He worships the ground she walks on. He would-" he pauses, holding his hand up in front of him, squinting as he searches for the right words. "Go to the end of the world for her." That's a very different reply from earlier when Ashley asked.

"And do you think she would for him?" Julia prompts, leaving forward in her seat. This must be huge information for the fans, though Emma quietly disagrees. She doesn't think they're at that stage in their relationship. But Killian's drunk (again) and playing up to the audience (again) and she knows better than to argue with him.

Killian's hand drops. "I don't know." He takes a long swig of his rum. What's he on now, his fourth? "But they'll always end up together, so I guess she'd have to," he continues, grinning when that gains an aww from the audience.

"Even though Alexander is entirely wrong for Rose," Graham cuts in. When everyone looks over at him in surprise, he just shrugs. "Toby sees it."

"They're twin flames. Kindred spirits, if you will."

" _Nope,"_ Graham laughs. Emma wonders how much he's had to drink.

Killian smiles, though it isn't friendly. "Alexander _cares_ about Rose."

"Says who? Alexander is probably just going to hurt her like he hurt everyone else because he's selfish and arrogant."

Killian slams his drink down on the table. "He is _not_ selfish and arrogant. He's just misunderstood."

Emma suddenly has the strangest feeling that they're not talking about Alexander and Toby anymore. Maybe it's the way they're glaring coldly at each other from across her, sipping carefully from their drinks with white knuckled hands.

Killian lowers his voice. It's dark and dangerous. "He would _never_ hurt her."

"That's probably what he says to all the girls," he spits. Killian opens his mouth to retaliate, but Graham speaks again, voice a little softer: "But then there's Toby. Toby, who genuinely cares for her. Who was there for her when Alexander was a total dick to her. Who will always be there for her."

"Alexander will always be there for her. And she for him."

" _Please."_ Graham snorts. "Alexander isn't open with her."

"He just doesn't want to push her. He wants them both to be open with each other. Together."

"Rose needs someone to break her walls down."

Emma shuffles uncomfortably in her seat. She catches Elsa's eyes, which are wide with realisation and understanding.

"Perhaps Alexander is scared to be open with Rose. Perhaps it's because he's genuinely never felt this way before, and he wants to get this right? Did you ever think of that, _mate_?" Killian growls.

"Perhaps Alexander is too thick to string a sentence together."

"Maybe _you're_ too-"

"I think we can all agree that what both men want is irrelevant," Elsa rushes out. Her eyes fly warily over them. They're still glaring at each other. "Eventually, Rose will have to listen to her heart. In the end, it's _her_ choice. End of story."

Julia gives an awkward laugh. "Well said, Elsa… So onto other things."

The rest of the interview is tense and unnerving. Julia desperately tries to put some light back into the rest of the night, asking them silly questions about pets and fans, but Elsa is the only one who bites. Killian sits there, sullen, glaring at his drink.

Emma is glad when it ends and she can escape to her hotel room. Hopefully everything will be better when the alcohol is out of their systems, but the thought doesn't make her feel any better. She wants some familiarity, some sense in all of this. She debates whether to ring Mary Margaret, but the little clock tells her it's past midnight. If she digs deep enough, she knows it's not Mary Margaret she really wants to see. She knows she'd have to talk about Killian and she really does _not_ want to talk about Killian right now.

She wants to talk to Henry.

* * *

Emma doesn't get to see Henry until the signings. He and Violet run to the front of the queue before it even starts, panting a little, both dressed in Harry Potter costumes. The reason they're so out of breath comes running after them, face like thunder. A security guard, towering above everyone.

"Hey!" he shouts. He's just about to put his hand on Henry, when Henry whirls around.

"I told you, she's my _mom_."

The security guard looks between them, eyes narrowed. "That true?"

 _Well, it would be a stupid thing for him to do if it wasn't,_ she thinks. "I am," she says.

"Fair enough." He disappears. As soon as he's gone, Henry leans over the table and wraps his arms around Emma. They hug, awkwardly.

"How are you doing?" asks Emma when they break away.

"Great! Ohmygod mom it's _so_ cool - I can't get over his cool it is! We saw Thor and there was a big statue of Iron Man and I _swear_ I keep seeing people dressed up as you, Mom, it's so _weird._ "

Emma laughs. She can feel everyone's eyes on her. She casts hers quickly to the clock. They still have ten minutes until the signing. There's still an empty seat next to her where Killian should be sat. He disappeared to to go and get them water.

"You know what? I can imagine. It's super weird for me too. But I'm glad you're having a good time." Then she spots Violet, who stands nervously next to Henry. "Hi Violet," she says. "It's lovely to meet you."

"And you." She's shaking like a leaf, wide eyes trained on Emma. "Thank you so much for the tickets. I love your show."

"No problem." Emma's already getting a good vibe from her. The vibe continues when she spots the bag she wears - It's a Kings and Queens bag with (surprise, surprise) Killian's face plastered over it. That makes Emma smile. "I like your bag."

"Thanks," she says, gulping. Then her eyes widen in realisation. "I had _no_ idea you were Rose until today, honestly. Henry didn't tell me until we were here. He just told me you got us the tickets."

Violet's explanation is rushed and breathless, but Emma gets the hidden meaning straight away. She's trying to say that she's not friends with Henry because of who his mom is. She's friends with Henry because she genuinely likes him. Emma didn't get the wrong impression anyway, and she's a very good judge of character.

"Henry, my boy!" comes Killian's booming voice from behind her. He's approaching them with two bottles of water in his arms. He pops one next to Emma as he sits down, a huge grin taking over his face. "How are you?"

It's clear Henry still hasn't gotten over the fact that Killian is _Killian Jones_. "F-fine, thank you," he stammers.

Killian's eyes flicker over to Violet and the bag. His grin, if possible, grows even wider. "And who is this lovely lady?"

She blushes a deep shade of pink. "My name's Violet."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Violet," he says. Then he lowers his voice and leans forward, like he's confessing a secret. "I'd slip you an autograph but I'm not allowed, but if you come over to Henry's, I can give you all the autographs your heart desires." He sends a cheeky wink in Henry's direction when Violet isn't looking. Emma resists the urge to roll her eyes.

"That would be great!" She looks over at Henry, who grins, and then back to Killian. "Thank you so much!"

"No problem."

"And if it means I get to spend extra time with Henry…"

Emma and Killian exchange glances.

"Well, anyway…" says Henry, scratching the back of his head. "We better go. We wanna get in line for the Doctor Who panel."

"I'll see you later, kid. Violet, it was lovely to meet you," says Emma. Violet, blushing even more, murmurs and an embarrassed goodbye and then they're off.

As Emma unscrews her water cap, she glances over at Killian, who's grinning from ear to ear. "What?" she asks.

"Ah, your boy is smitten." He's still beaming as he takes a sip of his water and points in the direction they disappeared. "I tell you what, Swan. You cannot hide the bloom of first love."

"She's a sweet girl."

"And he's a fine lad."

She smiles fondly. "He is, isn't he?"

"You should be proud."

"I am."

With a satisfied smile, Emma arranges the pile of photos in front of her, pushing them together until they're a neat rectangle tower. The first person in the queue reaches her. It's a girl, who wears the same stunned expression as Henry, and has the same breathless quality to her voice as Violet.

"Hi, Emma Swan," she says. Her eyes are all sparkly and almost tearful. Emma swipes a picture of herself from the pile and pulls the lid off her marker with a pop.

"Hey there, how are you doing?" she asks, trying to keep her voice natural. Though this isn't as scary as the panels, it's still a little unnerving. The girl isn't dressed in any costumes, but she wears a shirt with Killian's face on it. What's with clothes and bags and Killian's face?

"I'm doing good, thank you. How are you?" Her voice tremors.

"I'll tell you the truth - I'm a little out of my depth because I've never done one of these things before. Who should I make it out to?"

"Emily, please. My name's Emily." As she quickly signs a, 'To Emily, lots of love from Emma', the girl in question says, "You're doing great, by the way."

"Thanks." Emma gives her (at least what she hopes is) a bright smile and slides the autograph towards her.

Emily picks it up like it's the most precious thing in the entire world, and then she moves onto Killian, who greets her with an enthusiastic "Hello, love!"

The signing is a breeze compared to the panels. All the fans are very lovely and patient people. Emma's a little surprised. She knows if she had to wait in a queue for an hour for a stupid signed photograph, she'd be a little more than irritable, but then her mind wanders to Robert Downy Jr and she knows she'd wait days just to meet _him._ She may have a little celebrity crush.

Emma says much the same thing. It's all very: Hi, how are you? I'm good thanks, please make this out to a Josh or a Rachel or whoever. Some fans bring photos of their own to sign, and some even bring amazing paintings and drawings they've done for them to sign. They're all brilliant, but only particularly outstanding one catches her eye.

"You drew this?" she asks in awe, as she leans over and inspects the detail right up close. Every strand of hair, every little bit of light is perfect.

"Yeah," the fan says. She shuffles on her feet, a blush rising in her cheeks.

"This is _amazing_. Seriously beautiful. Killian, have you seen this?"

"What's that?" He leans towards her, eyes widening when he catches the picture. "Bloody hell." He looks up at the fan, who's entire face has turned a bright shade of red. "This is amazing. Bloody fantastic. You're a talented lass."

"Thank you," she murmurs.

"Do you have a Twitter? I'll follow you on Twitter." He's already reaching for this phone.

"What? Seriously?" She looks at Killian like he's just made her dreams come true.

"Seriously." He types away at his phone. "I'll follow you right now. What's your username?"

She gets all her words mixed up when she tells him, and has to correct herself. She's now starting to resemble the colour of a plum, but she looks happy. Ecstatic. She's still thanking them as she takes her signed drawing and moves onto Elsa.

Some fans even ask them questions. Emma doesn't feel as pressured to answer them as she did on the panel. If she gets something wrong only one person will hear it, as opposed to hundreds of fans. A lot of them are silly questions anyway, and don't require much thinking.

"Will Alexander ever take Rose on a date?

"I'm not entirely sure they had dates back then but I hope so," Emma says as she signs away. "She deserves it, doesn't she?"

"Oh, yes." The fan nods enthusiastically.

"What was your audition like?" Another fan asks.

"I thought I hadn't got it. I shouted at one of the producers."

As it turns out, the fans _love_ little personal stories. Emma quickly picks that up when Killian chats away about the time he fell over on set and everyone broke out in hysterical laughter. He mentions to another fan about when Robin and Will swapped his leather conditioner for pink leather dye. He tells another about the time when they removed the 'do not disturb' sign from his hotel room and a maid walked in to see him in nothing but his underwear (which they'd dyed pink round about the same time they swapped his leather conditioner).

It's all very repetitive, Emma has to sign and sign and her hand hurts. Fans come and go. Some are a little demanding, but most are nice.

After the signings, they're given a short break and then they're moved along to the photo shoots. Emma and Killian are next to each other again (probably because they're the main storyline at the moment). The photos aren't as comfortable as the signings. Emma doesn't mind her picture being taken for birthdays and Christmases and for Mary Margaret's wall, but this is non-stop. Ten pictures in and she's beginning to think her smile isn't exactly a smile anymore, but more like a grimace.

Some people ask her to do poses, but most people want the generic hand around the shoulders, which is fine by her. Like with the signings, some people ask her questions, and she tries to answer as quickly as possible, very aware of the long line snaking at a snail's pace.

"No, Rose doesn't know who her dad is," she says to one fan.

"Ah, that's a bummer. Will the King ever find out about her and Alexander?"

"Spoilers," says Emma, just as the flash goes off.

Halfway through Killian runs over to her and and pulls her close as the photographer takes a picture. She's completely unprepared when he kisses her cheek. All the fans in sight gasp and squeal and applaud. To Emma's utter embarrassment, she turns as red. At least Graham isn't there to see it - she's starting to think it's becoming a competition between the two of them.

Finally, the last fan gets her photo taken.

"You're amazing for doing this," she says, all sparkly eyes and amazed.

"I- uh- thank you?" Is she? "You're amazing for waiting in line so long. I'd only do that for Robert Downey Jr."

"You like Robert Downey Jr?" she asks in awe.

"He's great," she says, with a smile. "I even have a poster of him. Weird, huh?"

"No, not weird at all." Her voice has a breathless quality.

When she's gone, Emma feels a strange emptiness.

There isn't a Twilight panel tonight, to Emma's utter relief. She trudges back to the hotel with Killian behind her, resisting the urge to take her heels off. God, she's exhausted and her feet are hurting and she just wants to sleep.

After a quick bite to eat, she retires to her hotel room for a soak in that big shell bath. She has to be up early tomorrow, ready for the journey back.

* * *

 **Hey guys, sorry this one took so long! I have an assessment this week so I have been avoiding the interwebs for fear of procrastination. I hope this makes up for it! Business will resume as usual.**


	15. Chapter 15

They are thrown back into filming with much vigour. The nights seem longer, the scenes seem more intense and the costumes seem heavier. Emma really should have used her time off to work out and get some more stamina, but it would never have gone to plan. She likes her sweet coffee and doughnuts too much, even though every actress diet plan tells her she shouldn't.

One scene is really emotionally draining. It's with Killian (she just can't get rid of him) and it's at three in the morning. Her eyes sting from tiredness, her head aches and she just wants to go home. Killian seems the same. He's pretty redundant with the teasing comments. He seems to be throwing all of his energy into the performance, with real tears on demand every single time. Emma keeps note of that. Never trust someone who can cry on demand.

"I'm just good at what I do, love," he tells her when she asks him. "It's simple really. I just think of a person I don't want to lose, and imagine losing them, imagine telling them that I can't be with them."

Her thoughts immediately fly to Henry. She thinks of that time when she thought she wouldn't have access to him at _all_ and she suppresses a shudder.

The rest of the week is a little forgiving. They have a fight scene, which is fun. A lot of that is with Elsa, where Elizabeth tells Rose that Alexander cares for her, no matter what he does or says. That comes so naturally and easily, they don't have to do many takes.

"We must have good chemistry," Elsa comments later when they're changing costumes.

"Rose and Elizabeth might as well be together," Killian remarks as he makes his way in the trailer. His eyes widen when he realises they're in the midst of getting changed. A hand flies up to cover his eyes. "My apologies, ladies." Emma, luckily, had just finished pulling her shirt on when he entered. Elsa, however, has to pull her own clothes towards her to hide herself.

"Why don't you knock?" She aims a shoe in his direction.

"I guess I just- _Ow, bloody hell,"_ he hisses when the shoe hits him on the head. "I'm going, I'm going."

Emma and Elsa have the honour of watching sweet sweet revenge later when Will and Robin steal Killian's jeans. They run onto set, giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls. They pass the bundled up pants to each other as they look for a place to hide them.

"What have you got there?" asks Emma, nodding to the bunched up material.

"Killian's trousers," Robin chortles.

"Trousers?"

"Pants," Will corrects. He glances over to his friend with a grin. "This, mate, might be our finest hour."

"I think you're right."

They're still searching for a place to hide the pants when a loud and very colourful series of curses come from the distance. There's a moment where the two of them freeze and stare at each other like rabbits caught in headlights.

" _Shit,"_ says Will and tosses them over to Robin. When Robin tosses it back, he aims it at his friend's face with a, "I don't want it. You take it."

"I believe it was _you_ who said this was our finest hour."

"You shouldn't take everything I say to heart."

"Take it."

"No you take it."

" _You_."

Will freezes, pants in hands. Then a smile breaks out onto his face as a lightbulb flickers on in his head.

"I know that look…" says Robin, unsure.

Will doesn't say anything, but scrambles over to Emma. Without further ado, he shoves it under her chair. It's a messy job, one of the legs sticks out.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" says Emma, but she's unable to keep the amusement from her voice.

"I'm sorry Emma but someone's gotta take one for the team. He fancies the pants off you- no pun intended. He couldn't be mad at you even if he wanted to."

Will's only just kicked the last of the leg under the chair and stepped away before Killian storms on set, in a shirt and some boxer shorts, scowling. Emma hears Elsa's snort from beside her.

"Alright, _mates_. I am in no mood for your damn games now. Where are they?"

"Where are what?" asks Will, a little too innocently.

"Don't play dumb. My trousers. Where the bloody hell are they?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Do you know what he's talking about, Robin?"

"No idea."

"No idea, mate."

Killian grits his teeth. As much as he likes to appear suave and cool, his neck is turning red. Standing here in nothing but his boxer shorts and shirt, he must be embarrassed.

"I can make this very easy or hard," Killian murmurs in a low voice almost like a lover's croon. "Give me my trousers back. Or I will make your lives a living hell."

Silence. Robin and Will exchange uneasy glances, shuffling their feet. Elsa takes a sneaky picture while Killian glares knives at his friends. And then:

"Emma's got them," says Will. He folds his arms, and points towards Emma with a nod of his head. "Look, you can just see the trouser leg. Look."

Emma sighs, rolls her eyes, and reaches underneath her seat from the item in question. She holds them up into the light.

Will was right. He's not angry with her. Instead, he folds his arms, raises his eyebrows, a slight smirk on his face. "Emma, love-"

She holds a hand up. "If you were going to make some stupid comment about me wanting to be in your pants, forget it."

"I was going to say thank you, actually."

"I didn't steal them."

"I know."

She tosses him the pants. He takes them and makes his way back to his trailer with as much dignity as he can. By the time he's gone, Elsa's picture of him has over five hundred likes on Instagram.

Also on the agenda is a costume fitting for a huge, red ball gown. It's already designed and (thanks to many other costume fittings that have already told them her exact shape) made. She swallows a little when she sees it. She swallows a lot when she sees herself in it.

It's the most gorgeous thing she has ever worn, and the most gorgeous thing she has ever even laid eyes on. Ruby red, it catches the eye instantly. It has ruffled sleeves stopping short of her shoulder, and a corset with ties running down the back of it. She has to hold onto something to steady herself while they lace up the back of the corset. Layers upon layers of netting make up the skirts of the dress. It's heavy when she walks, but when she twirls, the material twirls with her. She's not in it long, and soon she's stripping out of it. She gets the impression that the dress must be protected at all costs.

…

"Okay, so lift her a little off the ground and spin her," says the dance trainer.

Emma's heels brush the floor as he picks her up, one arm wrapped around her. She isn't wearing her dress, but she has to wear the heels to practise in. They spin a hundred and eighty degrees and her feet gently touch the floor. Killian's eyes don't leave Emma's the whole time.

"That's perfect guys," he says. "So at that point Emma, I want you to look away from him, shy. Okay? Throughout this whole thing we want you to be shy."

"Sure thing."

"Okay, let's go from the beginning."

They step back and they step forward. To the side, gently swaying to invisible music. One of Killian's hands is on her waist, the other comes up to gently stroke her face.

"Nice. I like that."

His touch is light, as always, and so sweet it almost breaks her heart. Rose is a lucky woman.

"And spin."

He spins her gently, a breeze following her. She catches a glimpse of the crew and the cameras as she spins. Elsa gives her a thumbs up. As soon as she's facing him again, he pulls her close, hands on her hips. Something about his fluidity makes her think he's done this a million times before.

The rest of the day goes on like that; twirling and stepping. A few hours later they add the music. By the end, her feet are throbbing in her heels.

"We're gonna take a break and come back, okay guys?" Belle calls from across the room, to Emma's immense relief. "Be back in an hour."

As soon as they're out of position, Emma breathes a sigh of relief. She's never been good at dancing, especially ballroom dancing like this.

"Coffee, love?" comes Killian's voice.

"Water," she answers. "Just water."

He gives her one last smile and takes his leave, exiting with the rest of the cast and crew through the doors. Emma sinks into one of the chairs at the table, exhausted. She's so preoccupied, she doesn't even notice the shadow that falls over her.

"Emma, isn't it?"

Her eyes flicker upwards, as she gives a slight start. A man smiles down at her. He has a square jaw and a dusting of stubble. He looks a little familiar, but Emma's more than sure she's never met him before.

"Yes," she replies, carefully, walls up. "Do I know you?"

"No, no. But you know my brother."

"Your brother?"

"Killian."

She blinks. "You're Killian's brother?"

Another smile flickers across his face in reply, though it isn't exactly friendly. A few seconds of silence passes between them before he holds a hand out, gesturing to the seat next to her. "May I?"

"Sure, go ahead," she says, though her instincts are screaming at her to declare herself busy and leave the room.

Instead, she watches as he smoothly pulls a chair from the table (with a murmur of "These chairs aren't as heavy as they look."), and sits down. They're silent again, but there's electricity in the air.

"How come you're here?" she asks.

He scratches behind his head, not unlike his brother. "I'm staying in town for the week. Killian has kindly allowed me to accompany him."

"Oh. I didn't know that was possible." She's already thinking of which days to bring Henry in, and maybe Mary Margaret. But definitely Henry.

"He talks a lot about you."

"He does?" she says, only because she's not sure what she should say.

"Yes. Non-stop."

Emma weighs this for a moment, studying Liam's face. It isn't as soft as Killian's. The eyes aren't as kind. They're dark eyes, full of secrets and false promises. At least that's what her instincts are telling her, and Emma knows to always trust her instincts.

"I'm his co-star," she tells him, slowly. "We spend a lot of time together."

"I'm well aware. Perhaps too much time."

"Excuse me?"

He's wearing a strange smile; all twisted and wrong. It makes her recoil. "Here's the thing. My brother… has always had a troubled past. He's always had trouble staying away from darkness."

"I'm not really sure that's-"

"Alcohol, drugs, you name it. He's always fallen in, and not been able to get out."

Emma shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "It's _really_ none of my business." Why is he telling her this?

"I just don't want him to go on that… path again," says Liam. "I want him to surround himself with _good_ people."

She doesn't know where this conversation is going, nor does she want to know. "I'm sure he already does."

"You see, Emma. I don't really want him to surround himself with people who… have been in prison. Criminals." She freezes. "Do you understand, Emma?"

"I don't know what you're-"

He shoves a magazine article towards her, shutting her up. The headline reads: KINGS AND CRIMINALS. Her face pales. She snatches the paper from his hands, eyes skimming over the words in horror. The article touches on her pregnancy in prison, the way she abandoned her son, her time in the foster system, her juvenile offences.

"How did you find this?" she snaps.

"I do my research. I have to. My brother must be protected at all costs."

"He's a grown man." Emma crumples up the paper and shoves it in her bag. "I'm sure he can take care of himself."

"You don't know him like I do. He always falls into… things he shouldn't. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" She doesn't answer. Instead, she stares at him, her glare steely. A soft sigh escapes his lips. "Look, I have a nice girl for him back home. A friend from University. She has a good reputation, a nice family and she's coming over here to take a job. I _know_ they'd get on well if he met her. They're exactly alike, and they're-"

"What are you asking me?"

"It would be… unfortunate if someone were to stand in the way of a blossoming romance. If he were to… fall for someone else."

Liam fixes her with a sharp glare and the message is clear. Don't stand in the way.

That's when Emma realises something. Killian _is_ falling for her. It isn't just flirty comments and gentle teasing. Will said it himself; _he could never be angry at you._ Why not? Because he's falling for her. Or fallen for her. Either way, Liam doesn't want her with him. He doesn't think she's good enough for Killian.

And perhaps she isn't.

She swallows thickly.

"I don't want to be with Killian," she tells him. "I hope there isn't a misunderstanding."

And she _doesn't._ She doesn't want to be with him. She never has. The only man she needs in her life is Henry, and he's perfectly fine. All of her time should be dedicated to Henry, especially after all the years she missed. She owes it to him.

She may be a little bit attracted to Killian, but that's as far as it goes. She might imagine kissing him but that's because she has to kiss him on the show, and it's messing with her head. He's sweet and kind and funny so of _course_ it's manipulating her thoughts. She's sure if she had to kiss Graham she'd have the same reaction.

Wouldn't she?

"Good. He needs someone good."

Good? And what's she? She's dedicated the last few years of her life to being nothing but good. Thanks to her friends and Henry, she's been put in a good place.

"With all due respect, you don't know me. Does Killian know how self righteous you are?"

That strange little smile has returned. "Killian knows I would do anything to protect him."

"Trust me. He doesn't need protecting from me," she tells him coldly.

Before he can say another word, she rises from her seat and storms off. Heat floods her cheeks, a weight in her stomach makes her feel sick. She can feel the brief prickle of tears, but she blinks them away. She makes her way outside the studio, and gulps in fresh air.

* * *

 **Hey there! As always, thank you for reading.**

 **Also, this fic has been nominated for best WIP and best Modern AU WIP in the Captain Swan fanfiction awards! You can find their account here:**

 **So thank you for whoever nominated me! I haven't done much fanfiction so it came as a surprise, but a very happy surprise indeed. Would it be bad form if I told you to vote for me? Well, if you're enjoying this fic, go vote for me! But don't forget to check out the competition. There are many wonderful and brilliant fanfics up for nomination, and I can't wait to check them out myself!**

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 **csfa2016wip-50**


	16. Chapter 16

Emma jumps up onto the step, wearing nothing but her underwear. She's long past the embarrassment of being almost completely naked to the costume department.

"Here we go," says one of the team.

It takes two people to bring in the big red dress. They shuffle into the room with it, making sure it doesn't brush the floor as they walk towards her. It's even more gorgeous than she remembers. They've added _even more_ shoulder netting.

It takes three people to get her into the dress. Two people help her to get it over her head, careful she doesn't knock her hair. Her vision is a whirl of lace and red for a moment. Once it's on, they make up the corset on the back of the dress. Before, they'd suggested an actual corset underneath, but Emma didn't want to put herself through that. And she's glad she didn't. This one's bad enough. A third person adjusts the bottom of it, pinning certain waves in place.

She's ordered to step into shoes, which she does. Ruby heels. Not too high, very easy to walk in. They make her parade around a little to check the fitting. Once she's done, there's even _more_ pinning. More material and netting is added. By the time they're done, Emma's so exhausted, she's not sure she wants to do a scene.

* * *

The set is inside so she doesn't bother with a coat. Mulan leads her to the ballroom, a set she has yet to lay eyes on. When she enters, her jaw drops. It's beautiful; all polished floors, high ceilings and white drapes. Balconies run all the way along the top of it, and a towering set of stairs lead up to double doors.

As soon as she makes her way onto the set, she can feel eyes on her. It isn't too long before everyone is watching her. Despite this, the atmosphere is relaxed. The actors are chatting away, as are the crew, who stand, huddled in the group. Emma catches sight of Killian's back; the royal blue coat, the gold embroidery weaving right up to his shoulders. Elsa points towards Emma and he turns around to face her.

She doesn't miss the way his eyes widen, or the slight drop of his jaw. Beside him, Elsa is smirking.

"Swan, you look…"

"I know," she says, unable to stop her lips curling in an embarrassed smile.

"Seriously, you-" He swallows, shaking his head. "No wonder there's a kiss scene next."

"Yeah well," Emma shrugs. "I guess Alexander has a thing for red."

"He's not the only one."

She chooses not to answer that. A comment that should make her feel beautiful, even desired, makes her feel a little bit of dread. Liam's words play in the back of her mind like a broken record. She tries to ignore it, turning away from Killian to the set. The crew are doing their usual setting up. She catches sight of Grumpy and Belle chatting away to each other, probably about the scene. When she turns back to her friends, Killian is _still_ watching her. It makes her blush.

" _Emma?_ "

Emma recognises Graham's voice before she catches sight of him. He runs over to her, dressed in his servant uniform. His expression resembles Killian's. "You are beautiful." As soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widen a touch. "I mean you _look_ beautiful. Well you are beautiful but-"

"I get what you mean."

"Red is… your colour."

"I'll say," comments Elsa.

"RIGHT GUYS," Grumpy yells. "We're rolling in ten."

* * *

He lifts her off the ground, and the dress spins with her, brushing the floor. They're still spinning as he drops her down, hands coming up to press their palms flat against each other. They don't break eye contact the whole time.

"CUT," comes Grumpy's voice. Usually Killian is quick to release her and take a healthy step back, but he holds onto her, almost as if he's reluctant to let her go. "AGAIN."

They film the dance three times. All the while Emma is reminded of her dance with Killian before FWC. The thought makes her smile, but then she thinks of Liam, and all the colour drains from her face. He's plaguing her thoughts like some insistent bug.

He doesn't think she's good enough for Killian.

Liam's on set, watching them, but she chooses to ignore him. She can't face him now. She doesn't want to face him ever, especially not after the article. Who else has seen it? No-one has mentioned anything.

"Love, are you with me?" Killian murmurs in her ear and he holds her close. His voice is barely above a whisper and it sends shivers down her neck. She _hates_ it.

"I'm with you."

He spins her again, holding onto her hand, and brings her back to him.

"CUT," calls Grumpy. "That was gorgeous. AGAIN."

* * *

Partly to do with the dress, but mostly because she's avoiding Liam and Killian, Emma sits in her trailer for her hour break before night filming. She puts on Netflix, but she's not really watching it.

Mulan comes and gets her. A set of shiny black headphones are positioned over a messy bun. Wisps of hair fall over her face. Huffing, she brushes them from her face, which glistens a little.

"We're running behind," she mumbles, ticking off things on her clipboard. "We need to move. Now."

"I'm coming."

"Brilliant. Let's go."

Emma grabs her script and follows Mulan out the door. As they walk briskly, her eyes search the page, re-reading all the lines she knows. She just wants to make sure. They start to get annoyed when they're running behind.

They make their way down the streets, Emma's heels clicking against the concrete. Her dress flows behind her in the light breeze. Eventually, they reach the clearing just before the castle. A few hundred fans are waiting, held behind barriers. When they see her, they start shouting and waving. She can make out snippets of conversations.

"Emma!"

"It's Emma!"

"She's-"

"The dress!"

"EMMA."

Even though Emma has long gotten used to the watching fans, it still makes her feel a little nervous. She manages a smile and a wave, as she's seen Killian do many times.

"She waved!"

"Oh my GOD."

"She looked right at me!"

She walks over to Killian and Elsa. A gentle breeze lifts strands of her hair. She hopes it won't fall out; the folds and curls took _ages_. The thought of being in that chair again makes her sigh. "When are we rolling?"

"Soon as we're ready," Elsa answers. She smooths down her own dress. "I think it's going to be an all nighter again."

She turns back to Elsa and Killian. "God, I hope not. This makeup has done a hell of a good job hiding the bags under my eyes, but they're there."

"Not to mention it's bloody freezing," Killian curses as he rubs his hands together. She can see his breath in the night air, white against blackness. "At least they have coats," he nods to the fans.

"We _usually_ have coats, though," says Elsa. "It must be because they're running behind and they want to get started as soon as possible."

As soon as the words are out of Elsa's mouth, Grumpy is on the scene, directing people, shouting for positions. He takes enormous strides for someone so little, and soon he's heading towards Emma, Killian, and Elsa, a glint in his eye.

"Gather round, gather round," he shouts, beckoning them closer. They huddle in a small group, eyes fixed on Grumpy. "Listen guys, this scene is super important. Elsa, you need to be over there, in the archway. You might as well take your place. We'll be rolling in ten."

Elsa gives a firm nod and disappears.

"Right. Guys. As I'm sure you know this is a super significant scene." He pauses, waiting for their nods. "We're gonna do a few takes here 'cause we really wanna get this right, okay?" Once again, they nod in response. "So first take, we're gonna do it super soft and gentle. Tender. Second take, we want a hell lot more passion, okay? Me and Belle are torn here. She wants gentle, I want passion, so we're gonna pick the best one. Killian, brother, we want you to still be sweet with her no matter what, okay?"

"Aye. I will."

"And sister, we really want to get across your yearning for Alexander. D'you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Emma replies.

"This is a _major_ turning point for the characters. We've gotta get this right. Yeah?"

"Yeah!" they both agree at the same time.

"Sweet." He gives them both a grin, and then yells, "MAKEUP," before turning on his heel and stalking off.

The makeup artists, who were standing at the sidelines chatting and laughing, jump ten feet in the air. And then they scramble over to where Killian and Emma stand. There's a whirl of brushes as they apply powder and blush. They adjust the strands of hair around Emma's face, pulling and pinning and tugging and curling.

"FIVE MINUTES," comes Grumpy's voice again.

The makeup artists move away, running back to the sidelines. There's a buzz coming from the audience as everyone gets in positions, ready to film. A producer runs over the filming schedule for this scene, something Emma has already looked at.

Emma makes her way over the bottom of the grand stairs, and Killian, outlooking the gardens. She watches his body language, shoulders relaxed, arms swinging easy by his sides. In comparison, her body language is tense, her stomach is in knots. She loves the job, but big scenes like this play on her nerves, especially with huge, romantic gestures. She's never been good at romance in her real life. But she can guess this is why they call it acting.

"OKAY, WE'RE READY, IS EVERYONE READY?" Grumpy shouts into the night air. Emma spots someone telling the fans to be quiet. "AND ROLLING."

Just like that, Killian changes. He positions his hands behind his back, folded against each other as he looks out into the garden. There's a camera right in front of him, as there is in front of her. She relaxes her shoulders, and her expression as she watches him. As she fixes her eyes on him, her lips curl into smile, an unscripted touch she's added.

When the camera begins to move backwards, she takes a step forward. And another and another and another. Soon, she's running up to Killian, the dress heavy and flowing behind her. She lifts it as she runs, so she doesn't trip over it. Her smile grows wider as she runs towards him, taking over her face.

"Sire," she says breathlessly.

Killian turns, one eyebrow raised. His face softens upon seeing her. "Rose," he breathes out, his own smile overtaking his features. "I thought you wouldn't come."

"I can hardly refuse a prince, can I?"

"I guess you cannot." He laughs, and she joins in, hoping it's light and natural.

She likes the way their laughs sound together, the way they mingle. Then she thinks of Liam. She has to remind herself that this is _Alexander_ , his laugh, and not Killian, though it's hard. As their laughs die out, Killian's eyes fall down to the floor. She follows his gaze, towards the dusty concrete beneath their feet. When he raises his eyes, his expression is completely serious.

"You looked very beautiful tonight, Emma." At first, she doesn't even realise what he's done. And then, "Bloody hell. I'm sorry. Sorry."

"CUT."

Just like that, they fall out of character. Killian kicks the ground.

"You looked very beautiful tonight Rose. _Rose._ Bloody hell. Let's go."

Emma presses her lips together, not sure how to react. Usually, she would laugh, or smile, but Killian seems annoyed at himself. He wants to get this right.

"Go from your last line, Killian," Grumpy directs.

He clenches his jaw. "I will."

"ACTION."

They both go back into character, Killian with his hands behind his back. "You looked very beautiful tonight, Rose," he says, so sincere. Thanks to his earlier mistake, there are butterflies in her stomach.

"You're too kind," she tells him, averting her eyes. The blush rising in her cheeks has nothing to do with her acting.

"I, uh…" he lowers his voice, taking a step closer to her. She doesn't move backwards, and instead remains rooted to the spot, looking up into his face, into his eyes. "It's made me realise something."

She waits for him to continue, eyes flickering over his face; his cheeks, slightly flushed from Killian's embarrassment, his dark jaw; his lips, parted nervously.

"I was wrong," he continues. "About what I said before. About you being just a servant."

"It took a pretty red dress to make you see it, huh?" she teases, Rose forgetting he's her prince.

A breathless laugh. "I suppose it did. It made me see that you are my equal." He pauses, and then his eyes widen. Quickly, he rushes: "I mean an equal. You are _an_ equal."

Emma parts her lips, and allows a breath to escape in shock. "You said…"

"I know what I said."

"You said… _my_ equal."

"I know what I said!"

"But you said-"

He kisses her. Emma had expected it of course, but she does her best to show that Rose did not. She's just about to move her hands to his neck, when there's a loud buzz from the audience, and a number of excited squeals.

"CUT."

Killian and Emma break apart, taking an immediate step back from each other.

"Bloody hell," Killian hisses under his breath, glaring in the direction of the audience. "If they do that again, they'll all be asked to leave."

Emma guesses that's what Mulan is telling them, because their faces go from ecstatic, to sheepish in a matter of seconds. Still, the excited light in their eyes remain. A number of cameras and phones blink at her from the darkness.

"Are they allowed to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Take photos like that. Won't it spoil things?"

Killian watches the fans with a sudden fond smile, all annoyance gone. "Only the people who want to find it will find it. Also, it's not exactly a spoiler, is it?" His eyes flicker over to her. They're doing that flirty, heavy-lidded thing again. "We've kissed before."

"You're right. Rose and Alexander _have_ kissed before," she says firmly.

"And we're about to do a lot more than kissing."

"Yes, Rose and Alexander _are_ about to do more than kissing," she says, even more firmly.

"You're blushing."

"I am _not!_ "

"I think we both know that-" He steps closer. "You find me devilishly irresistible."

"Guys we're gonna go from the kiss," Grumpy announces.

She gives him a look. "Don't think I don't know what… this is."

"What _what_ is, Swan?"

"You. Being all… like you are, all-"

"ACTION."

His lips find hers again, stopping her words. He places his hands on her waist and pulls her close, so her body is up against his. One hand comes up to gently rest against her cheek. She moves her own hand up to rest over his, keeping it there.

The kisses last for a long time. He continues to kiss her in an almost robotic way. Once again she allows herself to wonder what it would be like if _Killian_ kissed her and not Alexander. She pushes that thought away immediately, before it has the chance to properly form again.

"AND CUT."

They move away from each other at once, taking a step back. Killian's cheeks are flushed. She wonders if hers are too.

Belle rushes over to them, a beaming smile on her face. "That was gorgeous. now we just want more passion, okay? Maybe you could tangle your hands in her hair, Killian?"

"Of course."

When Belle turns round to give Grumpy a thumbs up, Killian cocks an eyebrow at Emma. She resists the urge to retaliate.

"Have fun with it guys," Belle tells them before she runs off to Grumpy.

"ACTION."

This time Killian takes her hips in his hands and pulls her close. He pauses for a moment, when they just stare at each other.

 _It's acting. It's just acting,_ Emma reminds herself over the sound of her heart in her ears. She _knows_ it's acting. She can feel a hundred pairs of eyes on her, but at the same time, she can feel just one. _It's a job. It's acting._ Her breathlessness is acting.

His mouth falls against hers. The feeling is becoming all too familiar to her. He brings a hand up but this time, he tangles it in her blonde curls. Despite his aggression, he is gentle as always, his fingertips curling, brushing her head. His other hand curls round her waist. She moves her own hands to rest (what she hopes is shakily) on his side.

"CUT."

They untangle themselves from each other straight away. She avoids his eyes. The hair and makeup team rush over to comb the mess Killian made to her hair, and cover her with powder. They straighten Killian's costume and apply a generous amount of hairspray to his hair.

"AGAIN," Grumpy yells, scattering the makeup team.

"It's going to be a bloody long night," Killian sighs. "At least we're not doing anything boring."

She keeps her lips pressed together, so as not to give in and agree. She doesn't want to inflate his ego even more.

"ACTION."

They film the same kiss another four times. Each time, they change it up a little. Sometimes Killian wraps both his arms around her. Sometimes Emma tangles _her_ hands in _his_ hair.

Emma hasn't been so close to anyone else in so long (not since Walsh) but it feels nice. She's becoming accustomed to the scent of Killian's cologne, and the feel of his hands.

Eventually Grumpy shouts, "THAT'S A WRAP," and she's out of there like a shot.

* * *

 **Thank you everyone for sticking with me through this very slow burn. Next chapter things start a'turning and a'happening. I don't want to spoil anything, but be prepared for everything to kick off in the next few chapters. Either way, I am very excited!**


	17. Chapter 17

Emma stumbles back into the room, Killian following her. His hands are in her hair, fingertips curling against her skin, rings cold. She clutches his shirt, hands lost in the fabric. His mouth is at her lips, her cheek, her ear and his breathing comes heavy. He's stumbling backwards, guiding her to the bed.

She moves her hands down, to feverishly undo his buttons, yanking and pulling and tugging.

"You have no idea how much I l…" He murmurs in her ear.

She moves back to look at him. His cheeks are flushed. "How much you… what?"

There's a moment where he just stares at her, their erratic breathing the only sound. His eyes dilate, only a thin rim of blue left as he searches her face. _How strange_ , she thinks. Then his lips fall eagerly against hers again. His hands stroke her hair. They're moving backwards again, his body pressed against hers. Any second now they'll be…

They completely miss the bed and crash to the floor. Killian lands straight on top of her, knocking the wind out of her. She gasps.

So does he. His head rests in the crook of her neck, his hair tickling her cheek. She can feel him pressed on her, like a weight, but she can't do anything about it. Neither can he, so it would seem. He's in pain.

"Bloody hell," he groans, the sound vibrating against her neck. She's struggling to breathe now, with almost all of his weight pressed against her. She didn't realise he was so heavy.

"Cut," comes Grumpy's voice. For the first time ever, he sounds concerned. "You guys all right?"

"Fan-bloody-tastic," says Killian. He's already moving - thank God - using his arms to lift himself up. At last, he rolls off her, onto the floor beside her. "Don't we have stunt doubles for this kind of thing?"

"No, brother 'cause you weren't supposed to miss the damn bed."

"Right you are," he says. And then he begins to laugh, loud and booming, ringing through set.

Emma manages to join in once the pain has stopped. Killian pulls her to her feet ("C'mon, love") by her hands.

They're given a moment to get their breath back, and chug down as much water as they can. Once they're done, the costume, hair and makeup people come running on set. They wipe the lipstick marks from Killian's mouth and cheek, re-apply his makeup and brush his hair. They re-apply Emma's lipstick, and quickly touch up her hair. They don't bother _too_ much with that, though, because Alexander has already messed up Rose's hair by the time they get in the room.

"That was perfect. I really wish you guys hasn't missed the bed, otherwise we would have used that," Grumpy says.

"I don't know," says Belle. She taps her fingertips against her chin thoughtfully. "I kinda want it done a little differently. Slower. Not as… mad."

"D'you not want passion? I liked it. The viewers will love it."

"Slow is sexy."

"Not as sexy as _this_."

"Yes."

"No."

" _Yes_."

Emma leaves them to squabble, turning her attention to Killian. The costume department are desperately trying to fix his outfit. They do up his buttons and try to fold out the creases by running their hands down his shirt. They look impassive, detached, but Emma wonders how many women would kill for that job.

When he sees her watching him, he flashes her a smile. His cheeks are still flushed. His eyes travel to Belle and Grumpy, who are still arguing, and he rolls them. Then he makes his way over to her.

"Well Swan," he says, amusement in his tone. "That was quite a performance."

"I hope you don't kiss like that in real life," she tells him.

It must take him a moment to realise she's joking (Why is he so surprised? She _does_ joke, doesn't she? _Doesn't_ she?) but when he does, he takes another step towards her. "Trust me, love. Much better."

She doesn't exactly know what to say to that, (like with most things he says, actually) so she doesn't say anything. She simply raises her eyebrows and folds her arms. That makes him smile.

"Okay, guys," says Grumpy. He and Belle turn to face them. "We still can't agree, so we're gonna film both, okay?"

"Sure thing," says Emma at the same time Killian says, "Aye." They exchange a glance.

They've heard this before. The amount of times Belle and Grumpy argue is ridiculous, especially when they have to do romantic scenes like this. They have very different views on what makes a good romance scene, and what will keep the viewers interested. Grumpy thinks Alexander _should_ be all quick and feverish, like he has been with all his other love interests. Belle disagrees. She thinks that _because_ of all the other love interests this should be different, simply to show how much he cares for Rose.

Grumpy gives them a rough idea of how he wants the scene to go, but he says a lot of it is up to them. He tells them they're good when they improvise. They have natural chemistry.

* * *

"Action!"

A few minutes later, they're doing Belle's vision; slow, gentle and loving.

He kisses her slowly, mouth moving against hers. He pins her to the wall, dress ruffled up against him. With his hand, he's inching the dress higher. His lips dip under her jaw. With exaggerated movements, her head falls back, her mouth falling open with a soft oh. She closes her eyes. The shallow breathing isn't entirely acting.

"Cut!"

Killian resurfaces. He's about to step back when:

"I wouldn't even bother moving, brother," Grumpy says, "We're filming in thirty seconds - full body shots - and if you move and mess the continuity, I'll have to kill you."

"Wouldn't want that," Killian murmurs under his breath.

"Why do these scenes take the longest?" Emma asks, trying to distract them. Well, herself more than him. She's seriously debating whether just to lean forward and kiss him, as Emma. The amount of times she's imagined it in the last few weeks is embarrassing.

"I suppose they're the most real," says Killian. He's so close. It's driving her insane. She just wants to reach out and tangle her hands in his hair. But it's okay, she tells herself. She'll get to very soon.

 _No Emma,_ comes another voice inside her head. She needs to be professional. Why is she so affected by him? Especially when there are a million other eyes in the room?

…

Half way through, they _finally_ take a break. Killian stands with Emma in the lunch line. They're both in full costume, and she takes up three spaces with her red dress. Grumpy told her if she spilled anything on it, there would be hell to pay. Killian's rubbing at lipstick on his cheek, until it's red.

"Is it gone?" he asks, showing her his smudged cheek.

"Nope."

"God's sake."

Hiding a smile, she turns to the menu. She's starving and plans to have a big plate of something. She's glad she packed her toothbrush, otherwise she would have only water, and the rest of the crew would have to suffer the unrelenting noises from her stomach.

She's only just decided what she wants when Graham joins them.

"Graham, hi," says Emma. She smiles up at him.

"Hi there," he returns her smile, then looks over to Killian. "Killian, hello."

"Graham, mate," Killian greets him with an easy grin.

The same can not be said for Graham, who has to force a smile in his general direction, especially when he says: "You have something on your cheek."

" _Bloody hell,_ " He rubs furiously at the mark.

"There's no point," says Emma. "It'll happen again."

Graham looks between them, frowning as he works something out. Then, slowly: "You were doing a kissing scene."

" _Are_ ," Killian corrects. "And probably will be all bloody day."

"Huh." He turns to Emma, face impassive. A little _too_ impassive. Unnaturally impassive. "Hey, Emma I was wondering if you want to do something tomorrow?"

She thinks for a moment, trying to remember if she has plans or not. "That would be great. The only thing is Henry's at Regina's. I mean I could call and-"

"I meant just me and you."

She raises her eyebrows. "Me and you?" Her eyes flicker over to Killian who's trying very hard to look like he's not listening. He turns his eyes to the rest of the cafeteria, the crowds muttering and chatting away to each other. She doesn't miss the jumping muscle in his jaw.

"Yeah, is that okay?"

"That's fine." What would she do instead, anyway? She and Graham haven't done anything in ages. It'll be nice to get out and spend some time with each other. Tensions have been high recently.

"So I'll see you around… seven?"

"Sure thing."

Graham's answering smile is beaming. "Great! I only came over here to ask you, so I'll see you later?"

"See you later."

With another last brilliant smile, he's gone. Emma watches after him, only for a moment, before she grabs a tray from the pile. They've hardly moved up in the line when: "Where do you think he'll take you for your date?"

Emma turns her head to give him a look. "It's not a date."

"Aye, of course not." They shuffle along. "But it _is_. It's just 'you and me.' Though it _should_ have been just 'you and I."

"What's your point?" There's a clang as she drops her tray onto the grate, and a whoosh as she slides it along.

"My _point_ is… I hope he takes you somewhere nice for your date."

"We're just friends."

"Aye," is all he says, though the silence that follows speaks louder than words ever could. The line is too long and the silence is too awkward. She's very aware of Killian behind her. She can feel his costume brush hers.

"Why do you care?"

His response is instant. "I don't."

"Then quit bugging me about it. It's not a date."

Is it?

* * *

He stands behind her, unlacing her corset with slow fingers. His lips are at her neck, leaving slow kisses down the curve to her shoulder. It makes her feel all tingly, right down to her toes. The only sound is their breathing until-

"I can't do it."

There isn't any dialogue here, is there? Emma remains silent, unsure whether he's adlibbing or not. Should she adlib too? Are they even _allowed_ to add dialogue?

"I can't bloody do it."

That is most definitively a _not_.

"CUT."

It takes him five more tries before he manages to unlace the corset.

…

"I have a date too, you know," Killian says as he rolls up one of his sleeves. A member of the costume team folds it and buttons it for him.

She watches as he shuffles onto the bed, right into the middle like Grumpy told him to.

"Okay?"

"Killian, are you comfy?" Grumpy calls from over by one of the cameras. He must be watching him through it, checking the angle.

Killian shuffles. "Aye." Then he turns back to Emma. "She's my brother's friend," he says. A member of the makeup team holds her hand over his eyes as she sprays his hair. "She's come over here to take a job."

"Oh, right."

That must be the person Liam wants him to get to know. The one who apparently has lots in common with him. The thought of that leaves a weight in her chest. She tries to ignore it. She may have some sort of silly attraction with Killian, but she wouldn't want to date him.

Would she?

"Emma, sister, get in position."

The bed dips as Emma kneels on the end of the bed and shuffles over to him. It's the most awkward situation she's ever been in in her life, both of them desperately trying not to make eye contact with each other as she sits on him. He leans back against the headboard, and she has to hold onto his shoulders to keep herself steady and not fall into him.

A costume person arranges the dress around them. Another one fluffs up her hair with a comb. Someone else unlaces her corset again (she had to lace it up after the third break of the day). They have much more success than Killian who murmurs, "Really? _That_ easy?"

Grumpy announces that he's rolling in twenty seconds. Killian places his hands on her waist and Emma sinks her fingers into his hair.

"She's very beautiful," he comments as if they're not in this awkward situation, only inches away from each other.

"What?"

"My date. She's gorgeous."

"Right." Her mind flickers back to Killian's party all those months ago, where he tumbled out the closet with that girl in the tight dress with the golden hair. And the cleavage. The image darkens her mood, but she tries to keep her voice casual as she says, "Blonde?"

He meets her eyes. "Aye. Blonde." Softly, he moves one of his hands from her waist to catch a curl between his fingertips. It feels like they're the only ones in the room.

All of a sudden Grumpy is yelling action at them and they're kissing. Emma squeezes her eyes shut, but all she can see is Killian and his mysterious date. She's blonde, but what else does she look like?

She drags her hands down to his jaw, where she can feel the prickle of hair.

Where is he taking her? Will she go back to his for coffee afterwards? Or perhaps… something else?

They break the kiss (as instructed) and his lips move to her cheek, to her jaw, to her neck.

"Emma…" he murmurs.

"CUT."

He moves away from her, head against the headboard, eyes glazed over, face in a daze. Her own eyes are alarmed. He's done this before - he did this _yesterday,_ for crying out loud, when they were filming outside- but that was okay because he was _looking_ at her. This time he was kissing her.

"Why did we cut?" he asks.

 _And he doesn't even realise what he's done_.

Her heart is fluttering inside her chest. Her hands are still at his jaw. She abruptly removes them. Calmly, she says, "You said my name."

" _God's sake,"_ he hisses. His head falls back against the headboard again and again and again as he bangs it, eyes closed. His neck is turning an alarming shade of red. He avoids her eyes.

"We're gonna try this again," says Grumpy. "This time I want you to say the _right_ names. Seriously guys, we're on a tight schedule. Killian, if you say the wrong name again, you'll face the consequences." And then, almost like an afterthought, he adds, "Save it for when you're alone, yes?"

Emma's mouth falls open.

" _Leroy!_ " Belle snaps. "That was _way_ out of line."

Killian doesn't say anything. He just stares off into space. When Grumpy finally calls for action, they do it again, and this time Killian says the correct name. They kiss for a little longer and then Killian shifts them, lifting them up so he can lower them down, this time so she's on her back. It's the smoothest movement _ever_.

Will he do it tonight?

The thought makes her feel a little sick.

He's just moved his kisses back to her throat when in runs Elsa, door slamming open. Their heads snap up.

Elsa's eyes widen only a little as she fights to keep herself calm. Her chest rises and falls like she's been running. "It's the King… he's on his way. Rose has to come with me. _Now._ "

Killian scrambles up off her and onto the floor. With shaking hands he fastens the buttons on his shirt. His face is white, even though it's only acting. He's in the moment.

Emma struggles to hold her dress up, as she fiddles with the back of her corset. There's no way Rose would be able to fasten it herself, but she tries, in vain.

"Rose, you have to come with me now," says Elsa. She holds out a hand. A look is passed between them before she takes it. Hand in Elsa's, she turns to Killian, eyes shining. His own face reflects the same worry Rose must be feeling.

"It'll be alright," he says, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. One last, longing glance and they're gone.

* * *

Graham picks her up around seven, as promised. She's looking out the window when his car pulls up next to her. Emma can't help it, the relief that bubbles up in her chest. She desperately wants to see a friendly face, especially after today. Her thoughts have been on Killian and that blonde since she got in. She even finds herself hoping their date is a total failure. But it probably isn't. And with his reputation as a womaniser…

It's safe to say she's glad of the distraction.

Graham comes straight up to her door. She pulls it open before he even has chance to knock or ring the bell. He's very stylish tonight, in a suit and tie. He's toned down his usually hectic hair and trimmed his beard.

"You look very handsome," she says, with a warm smile.

"And you look beautiful. As always." His smile is just as friendly. "You should wear dresses more often."

In truth, she doesn't own very many dresses. She used to when she could afford to go out, but she hasn't bothered buying anymore. She bought this one on the way back from work, after realising she's on one of the highest paid TV shows of all time, and that she _can._ She also bought some new sneakers for Henry, which cost more than her rent. She thinks it's ridiculous, but Henry claims that these sneakers are _special_ and aren't like any other sneakers in the whole world.

"I've never seen you in yellow before," he continues.

"I always thought it was too bright for me," she admits. Really, she always thought it was too happy for her. Before starting this show, she hadn't felt happy for a long time, even with Henry.

She follows him out to his car. He holds the passenger door open for her, a true gentleman. When they're both seated, he starts the car and pulls out onto the road.

Twice, she asks him where he's taking them, but he doesn't answer. He just says he wants to surprise her with the place, and that she'll love it. They spend most of the car journey in silence, but a comfortable silence. Everything is comfortable with Graham.

After a fifteen minute drive, he pulls into a parking lot, which belongs to a pretty gold building. There are lights everywhere; lights in the trees, lights around the building, lights on the porch.

" _This_ is a restaurant?" she says in awe.

He's smiling at her expression. "Good, isn't it?"

"Amazing."

They make their way into the restaurant side by side. As soon as they step foot inside, they're greeted by a friendly woman with bright red hair. She asks if they have a table booked.

"Humbert. Seven fifteen."

"Follow me," she says, with a perfectly white smile.

The restaurant is gorgeous. Like the outside, the inside is very gold. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and crystal lamps are positioned in every corner. There are mirrors everywhere. Emma keeps catching sight of herself in them.

The woman leads them to a two seat table next to a wall. Sparkling silver cutlery is laid out on a cream table cloth. Her napkin is folded into the shape of a swan. She shakes her head at that, but it's fond. Since no-one else's napkins are swans, Graham must have asked for that especially.

Once they're sat down the woman introduces a waitress called Sarah, who will be their server for the night. _I like you,_ she thinks when Sarah brings over two glasses of complimentary champagne. Graham orders another bottle of wine on top of that. Emma tries very hard to keep her eyes from the prices on the menu, but her eyes keep falling back to them.

"Don't worry," he says. "I'm paying."

She isn't worried. She could afford it, but she's just not used to splashing out so much cash. She's already bought a dress today, and those sneakers for Henry.

They begin with a starter, which is some of the most delicious food Emma has ever eaten. She doesn't know the name (Graham was the one who picked) but it has salmon, cream cheese and it's to _die_ for.

After, they move onto the main. Emma chooses something light. It's the dessert she's really looking forward to. She has her eyes on the lemon cheesecake.

Throughout, they keep the conversation light. They talk about work, other TV shows and Henry. Graham's grown fond of Henry in the weeks he's come to know him, as well as Mary Margaret and David. He asks how Mary Margaret is doing, especially with the baby.

"She's due in three months, I think," says Emma, unable to fight a smile. "It's super exciting."

When pudding arrives, Graham changes the course of the conversation a little.

"So, Killian…"

His expression is unreadable. She sits back in his chair, sipping his drink, watching her with intense eyes. It makes her shuffle in her seat. She swallows her mouthful of cheesecake.

"What about him?"

"Are you two… together?"

She almost chokes on her next bite of cheesecake. " _What?_ " she splutters. Someone brings her over a glass of water.

"You're not?" His face changes now, creases smoothing as he relaxes.

She wants to tell him it's none of his damn business whether they're together or not. They're _not_ , but she has to ask herself why people seem to think they are. First, there was Grumpy's comment, and now Graham. Why does it even matter who she's with?

"No," she says instead, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why?"

"No reason."

There's a smile on his face. A smile which lasts the rest of the night, even after he receives the check. Emma wouldn't be smiling if she knew she had to pay a bill that big. She even offers half of it, but he waves her away.

"My treat."

All she can do is accept it.

Later, they decide to take a stroll in the park, even though it's mild. It's not as cold as it was, though, which is a plus. Still, Emma wraps her coat tightly around her.

They walk along the lake. It's beautiful in the dark, with all the lights reflecting off it. It moves slowly, gently rocking in a light breeze. They take a moment to stand and watch it, in silence. Emma feels very much at peace, stood with Graham. She has a thought, a strange thought. If she could stay here forever, at peace, she would. She wonders if Graham feels the same.

She peeks over at him.

Big mistake.

Before she knows what's happening her face is in his hands and he's kissing her softly. She doesn't pull away at first. Her eyes close, an automatic response, but within two seconds she comes to her senses and pushes away from him. His eyes are wide, breathing shallow, cheeks flushed. Her own cheeks are flushed too, but in anger.

"What the _hell?"_

"I'm sorry." His eyes are still wide, but this time in horror. He takes a step forward to her.

She jumps back. "Get away from me."

"I'm sorry. That was way over the line."

" _Yeah_ it was. What made you think that you could do that?"

"I didn't think. I just- I…"

Her heart is pounding. By the look of him, his is too. His throat bobs as he swallows over and over. He's embarrassed, she can tell, but she doesn't care. That was _so_ over the line. He takes another step forward, but she steps back again. She can still feel his kiss on her lips.

"I'll drive you home-" he says at the same time as she says-

"I'll get a cab."

There's a pause where they look at each other. Graham shuffles his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes are shining.

"I'll get a cab," she repeats, firmly.

"Okay," is all he says. It's all he _can_ say.

Emma shoves her hands in her pockets and turns around. She heads to the gate which leads to the main road. From there, she should be able to hail a cab and get as far away from here as possible.

* * *

 **Hello there! I hope you liked that. It was one of the most fun chapters to write! And here's where it kicks off! Hold on tight, shipmates, bumpy seas ahead! (... In a good way) (of course)**


	18. Chapter 18

As soon as Emma sets foot on set, Graham is there, waiting for her. He leans against one of the doorways, hands in his pockets, hair a wild mess. She was hoping to slink past him unnoticed, but he spots her and approaches, expression arranged into an embarrassed grimace.

"Emma…" he says, sheepishly.

She could sidestep and ignore him. Maybe if this had happened a few months ago she would have, but Emma's a different person now. As much as she'd like to bypass him, she's changed. Despite everything, Graham is her friend. So she stops.

"What do you want?"

"You were right. I was way out of line."

She looks up into that face she's come to know so well, into those kind, staring eyes laced with guilt. Graham, her friend.

"It's fine," she says, with a sigh.

"No, it's not. I'm sorry." He looks nothing _but_ sorry.

"It's fine," she repeats, this time with a small smile. "Or it will be if you sit with me during costume." She starts walking again and he follows her.

"I don't have to be in costume for another hour."

"But _I_ do. And I'll be bored." She throws him another smile over her shoulder, this one more genuine, reaching her eyes.

"Ha! Okay then. It's either you or Robin, and I know who'd I prefer." Then, he adds quickly: "There's only so many times you can hear about his camping trips before you start to go mad."

"Camping trips?"

"He's quite the woodland fiend."

They reach the makeup trailer. Emma places her hand on the cool metal railing. She's only just taken one step when the trailer door swings open, and out comes Killian, in a midnight blue tunic and tailcoat. She can't help it, she smiles when she sees him.

"Killian," she says with a soft sigh.

"Can't chat. Must dash. Have a scene with Gold," he quips as he runs past her down the stairs without sparing a glance in her direction. A breeze follows him.

She watches him go, frowning. His cold behaviour is like a punch to the stomach. "What's up with him?"

"He might just be having an off day. He always used to have mood swings before you turned up." Graham frowns after him too. "C'mon, Emma. Let him get on with it."

Lips turned downward, she trudges up the stairs.

* * *

Later in the day Emma has a scene with Killian and Gold. When she arrives onto set, Killian isn't there but Gold is, standing with his hands behind his back and with one of those smug little smirks on his face.

"Gold," she says in greeting.

"Ah, Miss Swan." He gives her a smile. "And how are you on this fine day?"

She narrows her eyes at him. "It's raining."

"Still a fine, fine day."

His tone makes her narrow her eyes.

"What's got you so happy?"

"Nothing," he smirks. She's not convinced.

Killian doesn't arrive on set until seconds before they're supposed to be rolling. He's led by a very stormy looking Mulan, who glares at him the entire time. Though that's nothing compared to Killian's expression. Emma's never seen him so moody.

"Tick tock," smirks Gold when Killian gets to them.

"Bloody shut up. I'm not in the mood for your games," he snarls.

"Killian-" Emma tries to say.

He flies past her, over to makeup, leaving her with unspoken words and unfinished sentences. She promptly shuts her mouth.

"Trouble in paradise?" asks Gold.

"There is no paradise," she snaps, folding her arms. "And there is no trouble."

This scene is where Alexander's father walks in on a moment between Alexander and Rose. It's where he starts to suspect that something is going on between them. This is where it _really_ starts to get interesting. She's been looking forward to this scene for weeks.

It's in the throne room again, during the day. Light pours through the open windows, and spills out onto the floor. Emma is back in her maid outfit (thank God for that, the red dress is beautiful but ridiculously heavy) and her hair is twirled into a loose bun at the back of her neck.

She's handed a brush. She's supposed to be sweeping the floor when Alexander walks in. Gold and Killian stand off set, waiting for Grumpy to shout action (after he's finished yelling orders at everyone that is). Emma waits nervously for it to start. She's hyper aware that Killian hasn't spoken to her properly all day. Though she'd never admit it, she misses his teasing comments and the way he bumps his shoulder against hers when he's flirting.

"And ACTION."

Emma sweeps the brush against the floor in slow motions. She tries to make it look methodical, moving all the dust and dirt into a corner. She keeps her eyes focussed on the task, brows furrowed. The motion is already starting to make her back ache - she wonders how people used to do this all day, everyday. Killian walks onto set, his tailcoat flowing behind him. He's in his costume from earlier.

"Rose," he says.

She turns and for the first time today, she looks properly into his face. He gives her a smile, but she's hyper aware that it's Alexander's smile and not Killian's. She has a feeling that, given the choice, Killian wouldn't be smiling at her.

"My Lord." She immediately lowers her eyes to the floor, and curtsies. The brush bows with her as she holds onto it.

He closes the distance between them, giving her another small smile. "I don't think you should call me that. Not with what happened the other night."

" _Oh._ Um." She drops her eyes and scratches the bridge of her nose. "Oh, I, uh-"

"I'm not your Lord, I am your-" He pauses as he searches for the right words. "I am someone who cares about you a lot."

Emma only just opens her mouth to say her next line when-

"CUT."

"What is it?" demands Killian. "What have we done wrong?"

"You haven't exactly done anything _wrong_ , brother…"

Emma glances over at Killian. He's deliberately not watching her, his eyes fixed on Grumpy. They're dark and narrowed, without a hint of laughter, so _unlike_ Killian.

"We just want some more, uh, _feeling,_ " he continues. He watches Killian warily as if he's a ticking time bomb. So she's not the only one who's noticed his sudden mood swings. She's not imagining it.

"More feeling? _Fine._ We can do more feeling." Killian speaks through gritted teeth. "Let's go."

Grumpy keeps his eyes on Killian for a moment more, studying his expression. Emma does the same, but Killian isn't looking at either of them. He keeps his eyes on the floor, his jaw clenching, his lips pressed together in a tight line.

"Action," Grumpy finally says, softly, concerned.

"Rose," he says, in the same tone as before. He offers her another one of those smiles, small and half-hearted. He doesn't look remotely happy to see her.

"My Lord," she says, curtsying like before.

"I don't think you should call me that. Not with-"

"CUT."

"Bloody hell," Killian hisses under his breath. He whirls around to face Grumpy, his hands curling into fists at his sides. " _What?_ "

"One word: brrrr."

" _What do you want me to do?_ "

"Look." Grumpy's expression is irritated now, his voice rising a notch. "I don't know what's going on with you Killian, but suck it up. You're an actor. Your job is to act. You're not happy? Act it."

"I bloody am acting it."

"No. You're not."

They glare at each other. Emma has to look away, the tension making her uncomfortable. Unfortunately for her, she catches Gold's eye. He stands with his hands clasped in front of him, smirking. She scoffs as she tears her gaze away from him, back to Killian and Grumpy.

"You know what?" spits out Killian. "I don't need this."

He turns on his heel and storms off set, leaving silence and tension behind. Grumpy is the one who breaks it, voice surprisingly soft when he speaks to her. "What happened?"

"I don't know." It's the truth.

A sigh escapes him. He suddenly looks very tired. "We can't film anything with Killian having a tantrum. You might as well go back to your trailer. I'll let you know what's happening."

"Okay, thank you." She watches him go back off to explain the situation to the camera crew, shoulders slumped.

Maybe something _really_ bad has happened. Maybe a family member has died or something. Emma prays to God that it isn't that. She knows what it's like to be alone. But she's probably thinking the worst of it. He might have just woken up on the wrong side of his super king-sized bed.

…

She's on her way to her trailer when Liam finds her. He creeps up on her, and falls into step with her.

"Come to have a go at me again?" she asks, picking up her skirts as she walks. "Well you can piss off because I am really _not_ in the mood."

"Charming," he muses at that self-righteous, pompous, British accent. "Really charming."

"What do you want?"

"Look, I can't stop Killian doing what he wants. Though God knows, I try."

"Yeah. Well." She picks up her pace. Maybe if she walks fast enough she can get away from him. It works. He stops.

"Maybe now he'll see I was right about you," he calls after her.

She ignores him, storming up the steps into her trailer. It's only when she's in there do his words sink in. Right about her? What would he see? Why? It doesn't make sense. Liam's probably just talking crap to bait her, but with Killian's mood, she isn't too sure.

* * *

She leaves work early, thanks to Killian, and gets in just after two PM. Henry and Regina are waiting for her when she gets in, sat on the sofa. She sent Regina a text just before she set off, telling her she could bring Henry home earlier because she's going to be in. Exhausted, Emma drops her bag on the floor.

"You look tired," Regina comments when she sees her. She sips from a mug. It's steaming.

"I need a bath and a good night's sleep," Emma sighs as she falls onto the sofa beside her. "Thanks for bringing Henry back."

"He was eager to see you," says Regina. There was a time when she would have had to force that comment out, but now it rolls off her tongue easily with an accompanying smile.

"I sure was," says Henry.

"Now why don't you show your mother how much you missed her by making her a coffee."

Henry raises no objections, and disappears into the kitchen. As soon as he's gone, Regina turns to her, one perfectly defined eyebrow raised.

"Did you see the article about you?" Her voice is low.

Emma frowns. "Article? What?" She has definitely not seen an article.

Regina cranes her neck over to the kitchen door, to check on Henry. He doesn't seem to be coming back in anytime soon. Emma can hear him humming to himself, an unfamiliar tune.

Slowly, Regina opens her bag and pulls out a magazine. It's the same magazine that Liam had, which has told everyone about Emma's past. But only this time there's a big picture of her and Graham on the front, clasped in an embrace.

"What the hell?" Emma snatches the magazine from Regina's grasp, ripping through the pages until she finds the article.

The pictures were taken of Graham and Emma's night out, and it shows them at the table, talking and getting to know each other. The photographer must have followed them because Graham kissed her in a completely different place to where the meal was. She hadn't even known. Emma curses herself.

"Are you in the habit of making out with your co-stars?" asks Regina. She's judging her, Emma can tell. And it pisses her off.

"No," says Emma, eyes still trained on the magazine. "I'm not."

She crosses her legs. "It's none of my business, really. But it might be Henry's. How do you think he'd feel if he saw this?"

"It was just a kiss."

"That may be but…"

" _He_ kissed _me._ I pushed him away- What am I supposed to have done? Sensed it before it came? It was out of the blue."

"I am asking you to exercise… caution, Emma." She reaches out for the magazine and when Emma hands it over to her, she tucks it back into her bag. "You're in the limelight. _Everyone_ is watching you now."

"I know. Look, I just-"

That's when she realises. _Everyone is watching you now._ Not just fans, but her family and her co-stars too. Everything falls into place; Killian's bad mood, Liam's words. He's seen the article. He thinks she kissed Graham.

"You just what?" Regina prompts. Emma shakes her head and she continues, "And things like this are going to happen more often. There is no way to stop it, but you just have to control it as best you can."

"And how do you suppose I do that? Huh, Regina?"

Regina doesn't rise to Emma's tone. "Well for starters you could not go out on dates in busy restaurants. You have money now. If you want to date, go somewhere expensive and quiet where you're less likely to be spotted."

"It wasn't a date." She grits her teeth. "It was a dinner with a co-star. He's my friend."

"I'm not entirely sure he believes that."

Emma's about to retaliate when Henry walks in, holding out a mug of coffee. He hands it to Emma silently, yet none the wiser in regards to his mothers' conversation.

"Thanks kid," she says gratefully, and takes a sip.

"No problem."

Regina stays until she's finished her own coffee. The conversation is lighter now with Henry's presence. Regina doesn't even allude to the article, and Emma's glad about that. Regina's always been subtle.

They talk about her pie shop, and she chats about how she's going to create a special pie and name it after Henry. It's going to have just the right amount of sweetness. Henry grins at that and Emma's heart swells. She feels immediately better after seeing her kid so happy.

When Emma sees Regina to the door, she doesn't say anything about the article but gives her a meaningful look. Emma gets the message. Be careful.

She has the feeling that she's going to have to watch where she steps these next few days.

* * *

 **Hey there, thanks for reading! I'm doing this a day early because I won't be able to post until Wednesday. So happy Christmas! That being said, I'm thinking about posting another chapter this week either Thursday or Friday, if anyone's up for that? And maybe do two a week from now on? Just because it's the hiatus and man, I'm struggling. Anyway, I hope you liked this one!**


	19. Chapter 19

Killian still hasn't recovered from his bad mood the next day at filming. He stalks around set, brooding and shouting, shouting " _BLOODY HELL!"_ whenever he can. No-one can talk to him - not even Will and Robin - for fear of having their heads bitten off. According to Elsa, he really laid into Gold.

"He was snarling," she tells Emma as she hands her a coffee. "Like an animal. I wonder what's gotten into him."

"Graham said he always used to be in bad moods."

"Not like this. This is ridiculous."

Emma is in an equally bad mood. Well, when Killian is around. She refuses to explain herself to him. It's absolutely _none_ of his business whether she kissed Graham or not. _He_ kissed _her_ , but that's besides the point. She's not going to go through the humiliation of trying to explain this to Killian. He's supposed to be a professional. It's not very professional if his little mood is affecting his work.

But no-one dare say that to him, especially during filming. One of the assistants gives him a coffee and he yells at them because they put one sugar in there instead of two. The poor intern, shaking, tries to explain that she _did_ put two sugars in and that they must have been very small sugars, but he's not having any of it. He knocks it out her hands.

"Killian!" gasps Elsa.

He shrugs it off, glaring at anyone who dare challenge him. Emma can safely say that it's the worst scene she's ever filmed, but not because of the content.

It ends with a, "You stood on my bloody _foot._ Bloody hell."

"Well you should move your big feet out the way," Emma snaps back. How dare he speak to her like that. How _dare_ he.

They glare at each other, both unwilling to give up and break eye contact. She won't step down but neither will he. Filming comes to a halt. The only thing that separates them is when Grumpy stalks over, a face like thunder.

"That is it," he growls. "I have had it up to _here_. There is something going on between you two and you need to sort it _now._ When you come back tomorrow, I want you to get over this… thing. Otherwise you're both off the show."

He turns on his heel and disappears, yelling orders at everyone. Emma peeks at Killian but he's gone too, striding off in the other direction. He pulls his coat off as he walks, and bundles it up into a tight ball in his arms. The costume people aren't going to be happy about that.

She returns to her trailer. This time there isn't any Liam to follow her and make snide comments. She hopes - or prays - that he's gone back to England. That would solve one self righteous problem.

She changes back into her jeans and shirt, and wipes the makeup from her face. She ties her hair up, a little too tightly in her anger.

Emma drives home in her yellow bug. All the way she glares out the windows, hands white and tight against the wheel. She's fuming, really she is. Who is Killian to be angry at her at all? What has she done to _him_?

She's so focussed on her anger she ends up driving past her house, a good few miles before she realises. She curses herself, slamming the palm of her hand against the wheel. She _really_ doesn't want to turn and go back home. She'll probably just glare at the walls and fume even more.

She's closer to Mary Margaret's than she is to her house and so she goes there. She isn't exactly sure why. Maybe she just needs to talk to someone. It might help her to calm down. Mary Margaret has always had a calming touch.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret says in surprise when she sees who's at the door.

Emma's mouth drops open when she sees the size of her baby bump. "You've grown."

"I know," she says, placing her hands over her stomach, her smile bright and winning. "Come on in. I just made cookies."

Emma follows her inside, shrugging off her jacket and pulling off her boots. Mary Margaret's carpets are a beautiful clean cream colour and Emma doesn't want to ruin them. She follows her into the living room, where David is.

"Emma, hello!" he smiles when he sees her. "How's my favourite client doing?"

"Just fine," she says. And then, as an afterthought, "Actually, no. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of pissed off."

The Nolans exchange concerned glances and Mary Margaret says, "You can tell us all about it. I'll make some hot chocolate."

When Mary Margaret returns with the drinks and a plate full of chocolate chip cookies, Emma starts explaining. She tells them about her kiss with Graham, and about Killian's behaviour with her the past few days. They listen without much interrupting, both frowning and thoughtful, sipping on their hot chocolate.

"I just don't understand," Emma finishes with, exasperated. She takes a cookie. It crumbles when she bites into it. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I knew he was a right pirate," David growls. "I knew you couldn't trust him."

Mary Margaret throws David a sharp look. When she turns back to Emma, her face is softer. She reaches a hand out to comfort her. "Well, isn't it obvious?" she says, not unkindly.

"Isn't what obvious?" Emma sighs. She just wants people to tell her what they mean.

"He's _jealous._ "

"Jealous?"

"Of course!" She chimes a musical laugh. "He likes you. I could tell as much that day when we all watched the episode together. He couldn't take his eyes off you." She shakes her head. "You must know."

When Liam told her to stay away from Killian, she knew he must feel _something_ for her. Have some kind of feelings for her. And she _knows_ his mood is in connection with the article. Jealousy would make sense.

"Killian, he-" She frowns.

" _Has feelings for you."_

Suddenly, she doesn't feel quite so angry. It's funny how that happens. "He…"

"He does."

"Well… what do I do?" she asks.

"Talk to him," Mary Margaret says firmly. "That's all you can do. Talk to him and tell him the situation. That Graham kissed _you_ , not the other way around."

"Just… talk to him?" It can't be that easy, can it?

"When Mary Margaret and I are going through a bad patch, we always talk about it," says David. "It's the only thing that'll help."

Mary Margaret smiles at her husband, all doe eyed, and places her hand over his.

"We're not a couple."

"We know, Emma," says Mary Margaret. Her hand is still over David's. "But in any relationship, even a working relationship, you have to be able to communicate. Talk to him. You'll feel better for it."

"Yeah," says David warily. "You don't want Grumpy to kick you off the show."

"And I'm sure Killian is missing your company. Like I said, he likes you."

Emma tucks her hair behind her ears, unable to stop a small sigh. If he didn't like her, this wouldn't be such a problem. Lifting her drink to her lips, she takes another sip. The cream and the chocolate make her feel better, all warm.

"And I _think…_ " Mary Margaret throws a look at her husband

He immediately stands and clears his throat. "I'll, uh, leave you to it. I've got some things to..." Then he disappears out the room, and into the kitchen.

As soon as he's gone, Mary Margaret continues what she was saying. "I _think_ you like him too," she says slowly, watching Emma as if she's a bomb that might explode.

She doesn't. Partly because she's right. Emma does like him. She's attracted to him in the very least, but she assumes that's because of the show and all the scenes they have to do. But that doesn't mean she's going to do anything about it. She's not. She's had crushes before, she knows where they lead if they're nurtured and she does _not_ want to nurture _anything_ between her and Killian.

"That doesn't matter," she finally says. "Whether I like him or not."

"Oh right. Because of the walls."

Emma gives her a sharp look. "What?"

"Those walls you put up. To protect yourself." She says it matter-of-factly, as if she's not dissecting Emma's personality.

"There's nothing wrong with being cautious," she says, a little too quickly.

"Oh true, true." But then her voice drops, and she leans forward, those soft eyes on Emma's face. "But I think those walls of yours may be keeping out love."

"Between me and _Killian_?" She starts to laugh but immediately stops when she sees that Mary Margaret isn't. "Oh, come _on._ "

"I saw how he was with you." She looks wise and older than her years as she sips her hot chocolate.

"He flirts with everyone."

"True."

"I mean-" She scoffs. "And then there's Liam…"

"Oh, _stuff_ Liam!" She shouts, slamming a hand down on the desk.

Emma's eyes fly open, shocked. She's never seen her friend angry before, not even irritated. " _Mary Margaret…"_

"Liam doesn't know what he's talking about." She glares at the table. "I'm sorry, but he doesn't. He doesn't know you. He read an incredibly biased article about your past, which is no fault of your own, and something you've tried everything to fix. And if Killian is half the man I've come to believe he is, then he won't take any notice of his brother. He'll see you for you."

Emma's silent for a moment, considering her words. Mary Margaret has always been so wise, so trusting, such a good friend. Both she and David have their points, but there's one thing she knows; whether Killian likes her or not, she has to get this sorted out. They can't continue a working relationship like this.

"I need to talk to him," she finally says.

Mary Margaret smiles. "Yes. You do."

Her eyes fly to the clock on the wall. Seven PM. That's not too late to go and see him, is it? If she sets off now she can make it to his by seven thirty. That's what she tells Mary Margaret as she pulls her leather jacket over her shoulders.

"You'll be fine, Emma," she says, kissing her cheek. "Remember, he likes you. He doesn't want to be in this situation."

David too bumps his jaw against Emma's. "I'll see you soon," he says as he wraps his arms around her. "Don't worry too much. You're still _my_ favorite. After my, uh, lovely wife of course." The wife in question gives him a look, but she's smiling.

They both wave at her as she pulls out of their drive and out onto the road. Mary Margaret rests her hand over her baby bump. Emma can't help but shake her head at that - it's amazing how big she's gotten. With Emma's crazy schedules she hasn't really had time to see them. She's got to make an effort more, maybe even bring Henry.

She pulls up in Killian's drive at seven thirty on the dot, but she spends some time in her car psyching herself up. Her hands are slick on the wheel, and her heart is thudding in her ears. What can she say to him?

 _I know you are annoyed because I kissed Graham._

Okay, good start, but where would she go after that?

 _That's okay because I know you like me. And here's the thing. I kinda like-_

 _No._ Before the thoughts have even properly formed in her head, she's banishing them, waving them away. But like her, they're stubborn and they stay, rooting in her mind like some sort of weed she can't get rid of. The longer the thoughts stay there, the more she becomes accustomed to them. She finds herself wondering if it would actually be really that _bad_ if she fell for Killian.

She's finally admitting it to herself. She has feelings for him. And he has feelings for her…

But she doesn't do this. She never tells people she likes them. She waits for them to come to her and then she shoots them down. She doesn't do it on purpose and she doesn't _want_ them to fall for her, but she can't help it. Mary Margaret was right. It's those walls she puts up. They're the only things that protect her.

Would she - _could she_ \- let them down with Killian? Can she open her heart?

There's only one way to find out.

Drawing in a deep breath, Emma yanks her keys out the ignition and awkwardly twists so she can slip them in her pockets. The door slamming is too loud to her ears which feel oddly sensitive. If Killian didn't know anyone was outside, he will now. She tucks her hair behind her ear, bites her lip and knocks on his door.

It takes him a while to answer. She even debates leaving and trying again later, but just as she's made the decision to turn around, he opens the door.

For the first time in a few days his face holds something other than irritation or anger. Confusion. It's a welcome relief.

"Swan?" _Then_ comes the irritation. His face darkens, those eyes narrowing, arms folding. "What do you want?"

"I know why you're annoyed."

"Do you now?"

"It's because you've seen the article. The one with me and-" She swallows. "Graham."

At first he doesn't speak, pressing his lips together in a tight line, but she waits patiently, watching his face. "Yes. I have," he finally says. "I'm fairly sure everyone has by now."

After hearing Mary Margaret's opinion. Emma's sure she can pick up on the jealousy in Killian's voice.

"It isn't how it seems."

His eyebrows fly up. "So the two of you didn't kiss?"

"No! Well, yes." She lowers her voice a little, glancing around. "But if you think I kissed him, I didn't. _He_ kissed _me_."

Killian's silent for a moment, his brows furrowing. "And you're telling me this because?"

"Well, because…" Emma knows she has to choose her words carefully now. He's standing there, watching her, expectant. Can she really tell him that she likes him? "Because we're colleagues. We have to be able to work together. To trust each other."

"Ah, right. Course." His tone is bitter.

"Killian, I-" She pauses. She… what, exactly? She takes a step towards him. "I just want things to go back to the way they before."

He watches her for a long time, his expression slowly softening into one she's used to. "Aye, I'd like that too."

"Though, not exactly the way they were before…" She closes her eyes and draws in a deep breath. Okay, she's doing this. She's going to do it. She _can_ do it. She's Emma Swan, for goodness sake.

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrows.

"The truth is, I, well I-" _I have feelings for you. I like you. Just say it._ "I guess I just, I-"

"Killian?" comes a woman's voice from inside the house.

Emma's eyes snap back up to Killian, and they immediately narrow. From behind him comes a young woman, small, blonde, in a dress and heels. She steps up next to him, looking between Emma and Killian.

"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Australian. Hadn't Liam said she was coming from England?

"Oh. Yes." His eyes are on Emma. He clears his throat. "Emma, this is Tink, Liam's friend from England."

Tink. _Don't tell me that's her actual name,_ she thinks. It's ridiculous. Like some sort of fairy or something. She's about to ask her if it's short for anything when-

"Tink, this is Emma. My… work colleague."

"It's nice to meet you, Emma," says Tink, wearing a bright smile.

Emma has to force a smile of her own. "And you."

Tink turns back to Killian, looking up at him all sparkly eyed. "Are we going, then? The table's booked for eight."

"Emma, I-" says Killian. "I'm sorry but I have a…"

"A date." Another tight smile. "I see." She feels like such an idiot. "Well, don't let me keep you."

"Swan-"

But Emma's already gone, practically running down the path, a breeze following her. She gets in her car. Without looking at them, she pulls out onto the road and drives off.

She's such an _idiot._ Mary Margaret was wrong. He can't like her that much if he's going on dates with other people. Not to mention she came out of his house - he wasn't even picking her up - so she must have stayed there. All night? All day? The thought makes her stomach turn.

What an idiot. What a stupid, stupid idiot.

While she was worrying about Killian and his feelings and their relationship, he was out going on dates with _Tink_. He can't have it both ways. He can't be annoyed at her for kissing other people while going around kissing other people himself. It's not fair.

So what if she kisses Graham. She can kiss Graham until her heart's content if she wants. She can kiss anybody.

Stupid Killian Jones.

She pulls up outside her house and the car hums to a stop. Fuming, she opens the door and slams it shut behind her. She storms up the pathway, boots thumping against the concrete. She's glad Henry isn't here to see her like this.

Stupid Killian Jones and his stupid charm and-

"Emma?"

She recognises the soft Irish accent. Graham steps out of the darkness, into the light, where she can see him properly. His hands are in pockets. He wears a strange expression.

"Graham?" For a moment all her anger is lost as surprise replaces it. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to say something." He takes another step closer to her, watching her carefully with those big brown eyes.

"Shoot." She drops her gaze and fumbles around in her purse for her keys. Why doesn't she just put them in the front pocket like normal people? She isn't looking in there long before she feels a finger on her chin, and Graham gently moves her face up to look back up at him. "Graham?" Her tone holds a warning.

"I like you, Emma. A lot."

"Graham…" _Definitely_ a warning.

"You just need to hear it. Just once."

She doesn't say anything. She doesn't know _what_ to say. She's feels angry and drained and shocked all at once. It's not a good combination. None of this is good. More importantly she feels vulnerable. God, she hates feeling vulnerable. Why can't anything be normal or simple for once in her life?

He's leaning forward, like that night of their date, and very softly, he kisses her.

This time she doesn't stop him.

* * *

 **As promised, the second chapter of this week. So I really really REALLY liked writing this one, and I was SO excited to post this. I hope you liked it! Also your reviews are the best, guys, seriously. They have me smiling for hours after. I can't thank you enough. The posting more often seems to be a popular idea, so expect two a week for now on!**


	20. Chapter 20

It's loud on set. Emma can't even hear herself think. That's probably a good thing, given how she can't stop thinking about Killian and his _date._ She's angry. She knows she shouldn't be, but she was just about to tell him how she feels, and he was hiding that _blonde_ back there all the while.

The kiss with Graham barely crosses her mind.

She has a scene with Elsa next, so she busies herself with reading the script over and over. She doesn't even notice the figure that walks over to her.

"Swan."

That's the last voice she needs to hear. Her jaw clenches, and she makes a point of not looking up at Killian. "Busy."

She can see him run a hand over his chin out of the corner of her eye, and his shoulders sag. His voice holds a slight sigh as he says, "You're not filming for a while yet. I do read the schedules."

"Yeah, like five minutes."

" _Emma._ " He pulls the script away, forcing her to look up at him.

"Give me my script back."

She reaches for it, but he pulls it up high, where she can't reach. _Damn him_ , she thinks. _Damn him to hell._

"Please, just listen to me."

"Here to tell me all about your hot date? Trust me, I'm not interested."

His face softens. "I'm here to apologise."

"Apologise?" That gets her. She frowns. This whole time she thought _she_ should apologise, and now he's the one apologising. Why?

He weighs up his words. And then, slowly: "You were right. It was about the article. And… Graham." He takes a step closer to her, lowering his voice. "Emma…"

She doesn't step back, like she would with anyone else. Her heart is fluttering away. "Yes?"

"I was jealous."

God, her stomach. How it swoops.

"You were?"

"Aye." He's looking her right in the eyes. "It's unforgivable, the way I acted. But, it made me realise something…"

She doesn't speak, but waits for him to continue. Her mouth is suddenly dry, and she swallows. She feels like a school kid with a stupid crush.

"That I…"

 _Just say it,_ she wants to shout at him. But she doesn't. She waits for him to speak again, not wanting to push him. Her mind travels back to how she felt in the car outside his house, when she was psyching herself up to tell him. There was that fear keeping her rooted to the spot. She can feel that fear now, pushing at her edges.

"I value your friendship," he finally says. "I don't want to lose it."

Emma has to make sure she's heard him right. "My friendship?"

"Yes." He's watching her carefully. "I don't want to lose your friendship."

A weight falls down to her stomach. She thinks back to Tink, and she feels so stupid. Again.

"Oh. Right." She hates how weak her voice sounds.

"Is that okay?"

"Fine. I don't want to lose your friendship either." She forces a smile. "I'll see you later, Killian."

She turns, but he catches her arm and pulls her back. She looks up at him, but doesn't remove her arm from his grasp. It's a good thing, really. She doesn't know where she'd go. She's supposed to be on set soon.

"I know you're still angry with me."

" _Really_?"

She can't figure him out. Ever. He likes her, but he just wants to be friends. How does that even work? How does any of this even work?

"Allow me to make it up to you."

She whips her arm from his grasp. "How?"

"We've both missed a couple of scenes, thanks to me. Grumpy wants to film them tomorrow. How about you come over tonight and we can rehearse them? I'll cook."

She narrows her eyes. "I don't know…"

"I just want things to go back to the way they were."

So there's no moving forward then. She feels relieved. But at the same time, she feels unsatisfied. She doesn't _want_ a relationship, but she wants to be with Killian. Or does she? She doesn't know. Her head is jumbled.

"As friends?"

He's completely serious when he says, "Aye. As friends."

Despite the relief, that weight returns to her stomach. As friends. He must like Tink an awful lot if he suddenly doesn't have feelings for her. Or perhaps she's been reading it wrong the entire time and he's never had feelings for her. Maybe he feels jealous simply because she's his co-star and he has to kiss her on the show. Maybe it's a natural, human reaction.

She wants to tell him to piss off and that she will _not_ be going round his house, not now, not ever, but Mary Margaret's words ring in her head. They need to bury the hatchet. They need to have a good working relationship if she wants to remain on this show. Bad relationships make for bad chemistry. That's if the past few days are anything to go by.

"Fine." She realises how cutting that sounds. Softer, she says, "You better cook something nice."

"I will, I promise." He gives her a gentle smile. "Around six? You can stay as long as you want. But you can also leave as early as you want too."

"Six is fine."

"I'll see you then."

With one last smile he's gone. It's a good thing too because seconds after, Grumpy is calling her and Elsa to set. At least that will provide _some_ distraction.

* * *

Emma doesn't run into Graham for the entire day, which can only be a good thing. She hates the thought of avoiding him, but that kiss isn't something she wants to discuss, not with him, not anyone. It shouldn't have happened. She was - still _is_ \- upset about Killian, and she wasn't thinking clearly. That's what having _feelings_ does. It brings out the worst.

At the same time, she hates the thought of _not_ wanting to see Graham. She cares about him, truly, and she misses his company more than she'd like to admit. And maybe, _maybe_ in another life it would work out between them. She could open her heart to him. But that kiss revealed what she already knew - Graham is only a friend.

While Killian is around, at least.

God, she hates that most of all. Damn Killian. Sometimes she wishes she'd never met him. It's been nothing but a rollercoaster between them from the first day. He's taking her walls down, as much as she tries to resist.

She should have known all along this was going to happen.

She can remember the way her blood boiled when the host flirted with him at FWC. Her blood doesn't boil now when she thinks of him and Tink, but she feels numb. It's an even worse feeling. She wants to be angry again, but she doesn't know how, not after Killian apologised.

There's nothing she can do. It's a helpless situation.

At least Liam got his wish.

All she can do now is remain friends with Killian. Hopefully she's right, and this crush is just what it is - a crush. She'll get over it, and she'll be stronger for it.

She'll go to his house, as a friend, and she'll be fine.

…

At six, she turns up at Killian's, bottle of wine in hand. It's the least she can do if he's cooking.

He opens the door, dressed in a loosely buttoned shirt. The first thing her eyes see is that patch of skin that runs from his chest to his throat. Her eyes sweep up, into his face, swallowing. She has butterflies in her stomach _._

"Swan." His eyes light up when he sees her. "C'mon in."

She follows him inside, repeating the phrase _he is just a friend_ over and over in her head. But her eyes are on his back and the way the material wraps around his body and _shit,_ she is attracted to him.

The scent of food catches her nose. It smells delicious. Her stomach grumbles.

"I brought wine," she says, as they walk into the kitchen. She tries to keep her voice natural. "I know you prefer rum but…"

"Wine is excellent." He throws her a smile over his shoulder. "I like any alcohol. All alcohol."

He takes the wine from her hands and places it in the fridge. In good here's-one-I-made-earlier fashion, he pulls a colder bottle of wine out the fridge. It has condensation running down the sides. He grabs two glasses from the cupboard and pours the wine into them.

"Thanks," she says, when he hands her a glass. "What're you cooking?"

"Beef bourguignon."

"What? Was that English?"

His smile is teasing. "You'll like it. I poured a whole bottle of wine in there."

"Don't you mean _you'll_ like it," she jokes.

She's surprised at how easy it is to fall back in their usual friendship. With just the two of them, it's easy to forget about Tink and Graham. Especially as he leads her into the living room, and takes a seat next to her on the couch. Close. There go those butterflies again.

"So, how've you been?" he asks.

Emma swallows half her glass in one go. "Good, I guess. What about you?"

He raises an eyebrow, but doesn't comment on her alcohol intake. Instead, he leans back on the sofa, placing his wine on the coffee table. "I've been alright. I've had my brother over for a few days."

"Oh," she says. "Has he gone back to England?"

"Yes. Alas, he had duties to attend to. Work, I gather."

 _Thank god,_ she thinks.

"Sorry to hear that," she says.

They move onto things about the show; the next few episodes, the costumes, and Grumpy. More specifically, his response to Killian's behaviour.

"Did you see his face?" Emma snorts.

"It was turning purple!" Killian wipes tears of laughter from his eyes.

"It's _your_ fault! You were being an ass."

He grins at her. "I was, wasn't I?"

"I think Elsa kept a tally of how many times you said-" She tries to imitate his accent, "Bloody hell."

He's still chuckling. "There's nothing wrong with saying bloody hell."

"There is when it's every other word."

He raises his eyebrow at her and they start laughing all over again. It feels good. Too good, she realises, and it worries her. She's supposed to be getting over this crush. But looking at the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs, and the way he smiles, she knows it's going to be tricky.

They have dinner. It's delicious. Emma wouldn't have pegged Killian for a good cook, but he just keeps on surprising her. He's baked a lemon cheesecake for dessert, Emma's favourite. She has a flashback to the cheesecake when she went on her date with Graham, but she pushes it from her mind. She does _not_ need to think about Graham right now.

After dinner they try and rehearse. _Try_ because they're a little drunk and keep messing up their lines. Killian calls Rose Emma, and Emma reads out the wrong lines. It's a disaster. About forty-five minutes in they call it quits, and flop down on the sofa, to resume normal conversation.

"What did you think of me when you first met me?" Killian asks, as he finishes off the second bottle of wine.

"Why?" Emma gets the feeling that he wouldn't be asking if he hadn't had a drink.

"I'm curious, love. That's all." He gives her a wolfish grin.

"Thought you were an ass." She shrugs. "Turns out you are still an ass."

"Hey! I resent that." But he's chuckling, like he was earlier. Then, suddenly serious, "I thought you were amazing."

She gives him a sceptical look. "Sure."

"Do you take me for a liar, Emma Swan?" A thoughtful pause. "I meant an actress. I thought you were an amazing actress. As I got to know you, I realised you're a brilliant person as well."

She shuffles on the sofa. No-one has given her an outright compliment like that before. Well, apart from Mary Margaret. She can tell he means it, and that makes her feel even more awkward. She doesn't know what to say, other than a quipping comment. Luckily, she doesn't have to, because Killian speaks again.

"So now I've been honest, what do you really think of me?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"I think you're…" she breathes out. He straightens up, hanging on her words. Slowly, her lips curl into a smile. "An ass."

He sighs. "Dammit, Swan."

They stay up near enough all night, just talking. It's a good thing Henry's staying at Regina's and not stuck at home, wondering where she is. They talk about everything; the show again, people, food they like, even politics.

"Let me let you in on a little secret, darling," he says, almost spilling ruby wine all over his cream sofa. "I still do not understand your politics."

That makes her laugh. A lot of things he says makes her laugh. Despite her earlier feelings, she's lighter than she has been in a while. Maybe it's because she's with him.

By one o'clock, Emma's eyes are starting to close. Killian's voice has lowered to a purr, telling her that she can stay here if she'd like, and he shudders at the thought of a woman going home alone this late at night. Even if she is getting a taxi.

Emma refuses, of course, but her body is exhausted. "I'll go in a minute," she yawns, as her eyes close.

Before she knows it, she's fast asleep. She hardly even feels him carry her upstairs into one of the bedrooms.


	21. Chapter 21

The first thing Emma notices when she wakes up is the fluffiness of the pillows all around her. So soft and thick, it's like she is falling through them. The edges of a comforter tickle her chin, and it takes her a moment to realise she's not in her own bed.

And then the haziness evaporates. Her eyes snap open to reveal a large, unfamiliar room. Sunlight streams through the gap in the curtains, but the bedside clock tells her it is only seven in the morning.

And then she remembers. This is Killian's house. They'd been talking late last night. Which must make this…

Killian's bed.

She can tell, it smells like him. She groans, and resists the urge to bury her face in the pillows and hide. What the _hell, Emma? What the hell is she_ doing in Killian's bed? More importantly, why the hell does she know what he _smells_ like?

She's clothed, she knows that much. The waistband of her jeans digs uncomfortably into her stomach, and her bra strap feels a little too tight. God, she _hates_ falling asleep in her clothes from the night before.

With a motion more aggressive than she intends, she shoves the covers across the bed and swings her legs over the side. She makes her way out into the hallway, leaving the bed crumpled and unmade.

In the hall, she catches sight of her reflection in a huge, square mirror. Her hair looks like a haystack, and she desperately combs and flattens with her hands. Dark shadows are smudged under her eyes. She rubs at them, but it just seems to make it worse. With a sigh, she gives up.

His house is gorgeous, but she knew that already. What must he be worth? A few million at least.

"... Killian?" calls Emma, uncertainly. Her footsteps echo awkwardly with every step she takes. "Killian?" she calls again when he doesn't answer.

She stands in a hallway, full of doors, feeling very much like Alice in Wonderland. Hands on her hips, she looks around. If she follows the hall, she might be able to find some stairs.

She does explore further, but she comes to a dead end - a window. And certainly no stairs.

"Huh."

Okay, so she's lost. In a house.

She's about to turn around and go back the other way, when something catches her eye. A silver photo frame on the windowsill. Emma takes a step towards it, and picks it up. Killian is in the photo, smiling and laughing. His arm is wrapped around a dark haired woman, who's smiling too. Emma doesn't exactly know why, but it makes her feel achingly sad.

And something else. She has a photo just like it, of her and Neal, when everything was good and happy. The only difference is her photo resides under the bed. It only comes out of its hiding spot when she's sad and has a need to see Neal's face and remember happier times.

With a heavy heart, she places the photo back in its place and turns around.

If this end is a dead end, it must be the other direction.

She makes her way along the hall. She can't help thinking his house is very clean - cream walls, laminated flooring. Paintings of the sea take up space on the walls. It's all beautiful.

She can see them. The stairs. _Thank God_ , she thinks. The house is like a damn maze.

She's just about to make her way to them, when one of the doors swing open. Out comes a cloud of steam, heat, and a Killian Jones.

A very wet Killian Jones.

A very naked Killian Jones.

(Well, not entirely. He _is_ wearing a towel.)

"Killian!" she gasps, resisting the urge to cover her eyes. She's not twelve.

"Emma! Love!" he grins. "I was wondering when sleeping beauty would awake."

"It's not too late, is it?" Usually she would roll her eyes, or scoff, or something but she doesn't have the energy. She's still shocked. And embarrassed. Killian Jones is almost _naked in front of her_.

He wears the towel low (very low indeed) around his waist. It clings to his hips, sculpted like they were carved from gods. She really hates herself for thinking so, but she can't help it. Nor can she help her eyes which linger a little _too_ much longer than what is socially acceptable.

It's been a while, and he's a very attractive man.

"Something wrong, Swan?" he asks, an amused smile playing at the corner of his lips. It's like he _knows_ what she's thinking.

She fumbles for words, trying to think of something that's not going to make her sound like a weirdo or a pervert.

"It's very big."

He stares at her. Then she realises what she's just said. She can feel the red flooding to her cheeks, her expression slowly turning into one of horror. She jumps to correct herself.

"Your house! I mean your house. It's a very big house."

"I see."

"I got lost," she says.

"Lost?" says Killian.

"Stupid, huh?" She's beginning to realise that she's just made an innuendo _and_ insulted the size of his house.

"Perhaps you could get to know your way around it," he says slowly.

He's looking at her right in the eyes. It's penetrating, the kind of look that makes her feel like they're the only two people in the entire world. She doesn't look away.

He takes a step forward, so barely an inch separates them. She can see water droplets on his skin, all along his shoulder. She moves her eyes to follow the path. Gently, he tilts her head up to meet his eyes again.

He's going to kiss her. She can feel it. And she's not going to stop him.

He leans forward. She can smell the perfume from the shower. Water from his hair falls on her shoulder.

And then, ever so softly…

"The bathroom is free to use. If this one isn't to your liking, there are three others. I'll see you downstairs."

One more lingering look and he's gone. She stands there, heart fluttering, dazed.

"Right," she says, to no one.

…

She uses the bathroom Killian's just been in. She has to wipe steam from the mirrors, but she doesn't want to try and find the other bathrooms. She wouldn't know where to start. And what if she walks in on a _very_ naked Killian getting changed? She's not sure she'd be able to get over the embarrassment.

She cleans her face, removing last night's makeup with warm water. She borrows one of Killian's combs to untangle her mess of hair into soft waves. When she's finished, she begins to feel more like herself.

After, she makes her way downstairs. She remembers where the kitchen is from the party, and doesn't have trouble finding it. She still can't get over the size of the kitchen, which happens to be _massive_ , three times the size of hers. There's even an island in the middle.

She takes a seat. She debates making a cup of coffee, but she wouldn't even know where to start looking for mugs, so she grabs a magazine from the other side of the table, and flicks through it. She wouldn't have thought of Killian as the magazine type, but when she has it, she understands why.

There's an article about _Kings and Queens._ Actually, there's an article about _him._ She's just half way through the article, when Killian makes his way into the kitchen, fully dressed, rubbing the back of his head with a towel.

"Hello," he says, as he makes his way over to the kettle.

"Hey," she says, trying to keep her voice neutral. It's hard when their moment is playing over and over in her head. She can still see him in front of her, water droplets and all. It's making her feel all flustered. The type of flustered that makes her want to fan herself with the magazine.

The man himself spoons sugar into two mugs. "So, Swan," he says, closing the sugar pot. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks." She leans back in her chair, folding her arms. "I take it that was your bed?"

"Oh yes."

She watches as he makes his way over to the fridge, and grabs the milk.

"And you slept…"

"In one of the other bedrooms." He throws her a look over his shoulder and then turns back to the mugs. "I am nothing but a gentleman." He whisks the milk off the side and back in the fridge, and hands her a mug. "Even when there's a beautiful woman sleeping in my bed."

The butterflies from earlier have returned with vengeance.

She peers into the mug, only to be surprised. She expected the chestnut colour of a strong coffee, but instead there's a caramel coloured liquid. Frowning, she takes a sniff and catches the sweet scent of sugar. Her confusion provides a brief but welcome distraction.

"What's this?"

"Tea."

"Tea?" Her eyebrows fly up. "No… No, I've _had_ tea. This is not tea."

He's smiling, giving Emma the impression that he may be laughing at her. "You've had iced tea. Or that horrible stuff you can buy at the shops."

"So?" She sniffs it again and makes a face.

" _So_ you've not had a proper brew. Allow me to rectify that."

"A proper _what?"_

"Brew. Cup. Mug." Bringing the mug up to his mouth, he takes a sip of his own tea. A satisfying gasp escapes his lips. "They don't sell this. I had to buy it in back alleys, from big men in big coats."

She gives him a 'seriously' look. "How did you _really_ get it?"

"Ah, my brother. He brings me a year's worth of supplies when he visits." A pause. "Go on, drink it."

She regards him with narrowed eyes, but he waits patiently. _Here we go_ , she thinks and takes a sip of the strange looking liquid.

Killian bounces on his heels. "What do you think?"

"It's…" Not coffee, that's for sure. It tastes pretty much like boiled water with some sugar thrown in it. There's not really much of a taste. "... different?"

"Good different? Bad different?"

She shrugs. "A different I probably won't be having again."

"Ah well." He sighs a little. "Worth a shot, huh? You don't have to drink it. I'll drink it."

Gratefully, she places the mug down on the side.

"I could make you a coffee?" he continues. "If you'd like."

She's about to say yes, honestly she is, but then something stops her. She thinks about their moment outside the bathroom, and how if he kissed her, she would have let him. That's dangerous thinking.

"Best not. Regina's bringing Henry back over today. I should probably be in when she does." Not to mention she didn't even want to spend the night, let alone the morning. She rises from her seat.

"Very well." His smile is only half-hearted. "Should I drop you off? Seeing as we have the day off."

"No! No." She's already backing towards the door. "It's fine. I'll see myself out. I brought my car. I parked it round the corner."

"It's bad form of me if I don't at least offer you breakfast."

"That's very kind. But I have to go."

He frowns, that usually wide grin falling. "Something wrong, Swan?"

"I just really need to get back."

He watches her for a moment, regarding her with curious eyes. She offers him a fleeting smile and he lets it drop. "As you wish. I'll see you out."

"It's fine. I think I know the way to the door."

He shows her out anyway, trailing awkwardly behind her. There's a silence so loud, it makes her feel a little on edge. She's always had a knack for making things awkward.

She opens the door and turns to face him. "Well, bye."

His eyes crinkle. "Goodbye."

And then she's gone, disappearing out the door as quickly as she can. The journey to her bug takes less than a minute, but she can feel eyes on her the whole way.

* * *

She doesn't find out about the article until she's at work the next day. And really, she wishes she hadn't.

Will and Robin are reading it in a corner, snickering like a pair of idiots. They pass the magazine between both of them, reading lines out to each other. Emma can't hear the lines, but she can guess they're funny. The men are hunched over, clutching their stomachs, tears squeezing out the corners of their eyes.

Nobody else recognisable is around, so she makes her way over to Robin and Will with a friendly, "Whatcha reading?"

As soon as the words are out her mouth, Will turns tomato red, shoving the magazine into Robin's hands. "Nothing."

Now that is _definitely_ something. She narrows her eyes. "No it isn't. What is it?" Then, as an afterthought: "Is it about Killian?" Her lips curl up into a smirk at the thought. She wonders what lies the media has come up with about him. Maybe he snubbed a fan. Perhaps he was spotted wearing some very bright underwear, maybe another one of Will and Robin's tricks.

"Uh…"

That's enough to persuade her. "It _is_ isn't it. What is it? You can tell me. I won't tell him."

Robin scratches the back of his head. "You probably don't want to read this…" The funny thing is, he's being honest. She can tell. And that makes her suddenly very interested to read it.

"Why?"

"Um…"

"Why?" She repeats.

They exchange uneasy glances. While they're distracted, she leans forward and plucks the magazine from their hands.

Disregarding their protests, her eyes skim the article. Slowly, her face floods with colour. And not the good kind. "Where's Killian?" she asks, trying to keep her voice light.

They exchange more glances, a silent conversation.

"Where is he?" she says through her teeth.

There must be something in her face because Will hastily answers. "In the cafeteria, I-"

Before he even has a chance to finish his sentence, she's off, tearing down hallways and past sets.

She storms into the cafeteria, door slamming behind her. She's shaking with fury, and spots are beginning to form in front of her eyes.

Everyone stares at her as she stalks past the groups of people rehearsing and chatting over dry tasting, polystyrene cups of coffee. The room goes quiet, but she doesn't even throw a glance in their direction. A red hot wave of energy follows her. Lips set, eyes glassy, she storms over to Elsa who sits at one of the round tables, sipping water and reading over lines.

She glances up when Emma approaches, a soft smile on her face. When she sees Emma's expression, she starts laughing, all wide and dimpled.

Emma grits her teeth. "Where is Killian?" Her tone is demanding.

"What's got you on edge?"

"I need to see him. Now."

Elsa's smile fades and her face sobers. "I don't know. Everyone knows Killian has an agenda of his own."

Emma has to fight to remain calm. She can feel rage building up inside her, bubbling over the surface. "I _need_ to speak with him."

"What's that?" Elsa asks, nodding to the paper crumpled in Emma's fist.

She blinks a few times, her head clearing a little. "This?" Slowly, she brings the paper up to the light. Elsa's eyes, hazed over with confusion, follow it.

For a moment, Emma's unsure what to do. It's Killian she wants to show the magazine to. She wants Killian's reactions and she most certainly _does not_ want to see anyone else's. But then she watches Elsa, patient and waiting for a response, hands clasped in front of her. They meet eyes and a strange thought runs through Emma's head. _I can trust Elsa._ Funny, considering how high her walls have been these past few days. Not to mention, she's sure everyone will see the paper anyway.

Emma digs her nails into the heels of her hands and, without further ado, slams the paper on the table. Even as Elsa places a hand over it and slides it towards herself, she can still see the headline as clear as day.

 **EMMA SWAN SPOTTED LEAVING ACTOR KILLIAN JONES' HOUSE IN THE EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING**

Elsa's eyes snap up to meet Emma's, wide and confused. Emma rests both of her hands on the back of the chair in front of her to stop further injury to her skin. The nail marks are already sore. She catches sight of her reflection in one of the windows, all ghost white and burning eyes.

She watches Elsa's reaction carefully, doing damage to her bottom lip. Her face is unreadable, apart from the slight crease between her eyebrows. A few minutes pass, and then she looks up again.

"You weren't actually…"

"No!" Emma's quick to correct her. " _No_. We were just rehearsing. I fell asleep so he let me stay."

"Huh," is her only comment. Her eyes flicker down the article again. "Has Killian seen it?"

"Seen what?" comes a voice from behind them.

Killian strolls towards them. His shoulders are relaxed, arms swinging at his sides, so unlike Emma whose clenched fists tell a different story. She snatches the paper from Elsa's grasp and holds it out to him, arm stiff.

He raises his eyebrows, and soon he's taking the paper from her, far more gentle with his movements. His eyes skim the printed words. She's on tenterhooks as she waits to see his reaction.

Those eyes flicker upwards, dark and mischievous. The expression sends a shiver down her spine. She doesn't say anything, simply watching as he drops his eyes back to the paper.

A deep rumble comes from him as he clears his throat. "One of the stars of Kings and Queens, Emma Swan, was spotted leaving her co-star, Killian Jones', house in the early hours of Sunday morning…"

It takes her a moment before she realises what he's doing, and then she's desperately reaching forward, making a grab for the paper. He swings it out of the way at the last moment, her fingertips just brushing the sharp edges.

"Emma, bottom left, was caught sporting crumpled clothes she'd worn the night before. Or hadn't worn..." He has the audacity to wiggle his eyebrows and she blushes. "As it would seem she spent the entire night at the Kings and Queens lead's home."

"Please stop." She can see Elsa watching them out the corner of her eye. It won't be long before the entire room overhears their conversation.

"Is this a confirmation of what we've already been speculating about? Are Killian Jones and Emma Swan an item? After this, they'll have to come clean." A breathless laugh escapes his lips. "Even they can't deny the sexual tension between them during those steamy scenes on the show."

"Killian…"

His eyes meet hers. "Why are you so bothered by it?"

"Because it's… y'know…"

His voice is soft. "Let them believe what they want to believe. Is it really so bad?"

"Yes," she says quickly. "No. Maybe. I don't know. I just don't like people thinking things about me that aren't true. Especially things like _this_."

Emma's usually very good at deciphering people, but his expression is unreadable. He remains silent, staring at the paper in his hands, the knuckle slowly turning white. When he looks up at her, there's something in his face that wasn't there before.

"Yes. How wrong they are. If I made love to you all night, you'd certainly stay all morning."

Elsa chokes on her coffee, sputtering a, " _Holy shit_."

With that he turns on his heel and abruptly leaves the room, taking the paper with him. Emma's left to stare, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, trying to ignore the sudden wave of butterflies flooding her stomach.

Elsa opens her mouth, but Emma shakes her head. "Don't."

…

Thankfully, she doesn't have any more scenes with Killian, but she does have one with Graham, who doesn't seem himself. Not as talkative as usual. She knows it's a number of things, but she chooses not to bring up the kiss.

"You've seen the article, haven't you?" She sighs after their scene.

He's completely avoiding her eyes, watching the cameramen set up, and Grumpy stalk about. His arms are folded, body tense.

"I might have seen something."

"That's why you're being weird with me."

"I'm not being weird with you."

Emma folds her arms. "Graham, I'm not an idiot." When his eyes flicker up to hers, she continues, voice softer. "But if you know anything about the media, you have to know that article is a lie."

He looks at her properly now, hope in his eyes. "You didn't sleep at Killian's?"

"No, I did."

He looks away from her, jaw clenching. "Right."

"But I didn't sleep _with_ Killian."

He doesn't say anything, folding his arms, eyes set off into the distance. All of a sudden she's angry. It's not any of his damn business, whether she slept with him or not. She's not _with_ Graham. He doesn't _own_ her.

"Why you do even care anyway?" Emma says.

She's shocked when he speaks. She hadn't expected an answer, only another shrug or stony silence. She certainly hadn't expected an answer like _this_.

"He's not right for you, Emma," he tells her. His eyebrows are knitted together, eyes narrowed. She's never seen that expression on him before now. Usually his face holds nothing but warmth and kindness. "He's bad news. Trust me, I know what bad news is. I worked with bad news for years before I got on this show."

"Bad news, huh?" She tries to keep her tone light. "He doesn't seem like bad news to me."

"Well, he is."

"He's a genuinely nice guy."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Graham snaps. It shocks her, leaving her dumbfounded. He's never snapped at her before. Never.

"I don't think you really know him at all." Her tone is sharp and cutting. She has to ask herself why she's so defensive.

"I know him a lot better than you."

"I don't think that's true."

"Has he told you who Milah is?"

Milah? She pauses, taken back, but hardly for a second. "Frankly, I really don't care who Milah is. It's none of my business and-"

"She's Gold's wife. Or at least she was."

Emma freezes. Gold's wife? She didn't even know Gold had a wife. She hadn't even entertained the idea of anyone wanting to be with Gold, let alone _marry_ him. "Wife? What's Gold's wife got to do with this?"

"Killian _stole_ her from him. They had an affair."

Emma hardly skips a beat. Hardly. Even though this is shocking news to her. "That's really none of my business."

Her mind is running a million miles an hour. She always knew there was a feud between them, but she thought it would be something petty like part stealing, not _wife_ stealing. Still, she can't believe Killian is entirely to blame in this. She's not even sure this is _true._ Graham could be lying for all she knows, or he could have the wrong end of the stick.

But he's not lying.

Sometimes she curses that superpower of hers.

"It is if you want to be romantically involved with him."

"Who said I want to be romantically involved with him?" she quips.

"Well, you clearly don't want to be with _me,_ even after you kissed me."

She flinches. "I don't want to be with _anyone_ , actually."

Hurt crosses over his face, disappearing as quickly as it comes. "Please. It's obvious. So obvious." His voice is bitter. "But you'd be making a mistake. He's _bad news_."

"I think I can take care of myself, thanks."

"Fine."

" _Fine._ "

For the second time today, she storms off, desperately needing to get away from him, to get away from everyone.

* * *

 **This one was so fun to write! I hope you like it! As always, thank you for your continued support.**


	22. Chapter 22

Emma has barely woken up when Henry is shoving the phone at her, mouthing 'David'. Emma groans. She needs another three coffees and a shower before she can speak to anyone and form coherent sentences. At the very least, she needs _some_ time to wake up. The late nights are really messing up her sleeping patterns again.

"What do you want?"

"You're very hostile today," David muses, amusement in his voice. He sounds too chirpy for so early in the morning.

"What do you want?" she repeats.

She pads into the kitchen. There's a coffee waiting for her on the kitchen table, steaming and inviting. She smiles when she sees it. _Thanks Henry,_ she thinks.

"You have an interview tonight."

" _Tonight?_ Bit short notice, David." She picks up the mug and takes a sip. It's _perfect,_ exactly how she likes it.

"I know, I forgot. I'm sorry." He's grinning, she can tell. "But a car will be here to pick you up at seven. Be ready on time."

"Yeah, _I_ won't forget." She rolls her eyes. "What show is it?"

"The Teddy Norman show."

" _Teddy Norman?_ "

He owns one of the biggest shows in America. He's Irish and a _huge_ hit with all sorts of celebrities from actors to writers to musicians. She can't think of a celebrity who hasn't been on there. That's how she knows she's made it.

"Teddy Norman," confirms David. "He asked for you. You and Killian, that is."

"So it's just… me and Killian?" She bites her lip.

"Yup. Anyway, I've got to go. Mary Margaret wants me to make breakfast since she can no longer bend down to get the plates from the cupboards."

"Sure, I'll talk to you later."

"See ya, Emma. You'll be amazing tonight."

The line disconnects and Emma's left holding the phone in a daze.

"The Teddy Norman show," she says to herself as she places the phone on the hook. "Right. Okay then."

* * *

Later on she stands backstage with Killian, bouncing in her heels, a little nervously. She's not as scared as she would have been a few months ago, not after FWC, but this is still a big thing. The Teddy Norman show. Who'd have thought, huh? If the kids at the foster home could see her now.

"You're beautiful," comments Killian as he watches her. He's wearing a suit and tie.

"Why do you always say that?"

"I say it because it's true." And then: "Nervous?"

"A little bit."

"You'll be fine."

She looks up at him. "I know."

They can hear Teddy warming the crowd up on stage, who seem excitable anyway, cheering and oooing and ahhing. "As you should know, this is a Kings and Queens _special_."

"Ooooo," say the crowd.

"Ooooo," he repeats. "I know, right. I haven't had Killian Jones on the show since the first series."

Teddy Norman is a small man with a round face and a cheeky smile. He started off as a standup comedian and as his career went on, he did some acting. Now he has this show, the best chat show around. Over fifty, he has a beard and silver hair, but he still has that same charm that made everyone fall in love with him all those years ago.

Someone backstage with a headset tells them they're on in five seconds.

Sure enough, Teddy calls, "You know him as Alexander, it's the suave, the cool Killian Jones everybody!"

Killian gives Emma a wink, an arm rub and disappears, running onto stage.

"Now it's the very beautiful, very talented Emma Swan!"

Emma follows Killian, in front of the crowd of cheering people. The crowd doesn't even faze her now. She's used to it. She gives them a wave as she makes her way over to Teddy (who kisses her on both cheeks) and sits down next to Killian. Two drinks are waiting on the table in front of them.

Teddy sinks into his chair. "Hello, _hello."_ He says as he slaps his knees. "Killian Jones, Emma Swan welcome. It's good to have you here."

"It's good to be here," says Killian, as smooth as ever. He immediately goes for his rum and takes a sip. Emma leaves her wine sat there for the time being. She doesn't want to get too drunk too quickly.

Teddy begins by gushing about their show. He tells them how he watches it every week without fail and goes to every premiere. He loves all the characters, and he was _so_ excited when Emma was introduced. Rose is an amazing character, he says.

They tease what's going to happen next. They mention about next week where there's going to be a ball. If people have seen the promo, they've seen Emma's big red dress. Teddy shows them another trailer.

"It was the worst thing ever," Emma tells him when he asks about the dress. "I hated it. It was too heavy."

"But it _is_ gorgeous," says Teddy.

"Aye," Killian agrees.

They talk about other cast members, and about what they're like on set. By the time half Emma's drink is gone, she's starting to relax a little. Though she still feels starstruck because it's _Teddy Norman._

"Okay, so I might have done something…" he says, making a "whoops" face. "And that something might include fans."

"Fans huh," says Emma. She raises her eyebrows. Her and Killian exchange glances. Even though Teddy mentioned "fans", Emma feels completely at ease.

"So I put a tweet out earlier in the week that I was having you two on the show, and I asked if they could send in questions for us. And I, uh…" He paused. "I may have said they could ask whatever they wanted, no limits. I may have said that."

"Bloody hell," says Killian, shaking his head, but there's a smile on his face.

"But I _think_ you're going to like what I picked. I picked some good ones."

"Go on then."

"Okay so KillianLuver5eva has asked a good question here. Funniest moment on set?"

"Oh!" Emma snorts, "I have one."

"Do share."

"So Robin and Will-"

"- They play Lucas and Edward on the show, don't they?"

"Yeah, they do. And they _always_ play pranks on Killian. _Always_. And this one time they nicked his pants while he was getting changed and ran out onto set with them." Emma can't stop the giggles that escape her. "And he had to run out onto set without any pants."

"For those who don't know, American pants are trousers." He turns to them. "I have a lot of British viewers."

"It was funny. Elsa, who plays Elizabeth on the show, took a picture and posted it to her Instagram."

"We actually have the photo here. Do we? We do!" The photo flashes up on the screen, showing a slightly blurred Killian in his underwear.

"I like the polkadots," Teddy comments. "Really I do."

"Likewise," says Killian. His smile is easy.

"We have another one here. From KingsAndCuties. She says, Can you imagine if Teddy asked them if they know what Captain Swan is. I think I'd die. Pretty sure I'd die." Teddy looks right down the camera. "Well, KingsAndCuties, RIP you." He turns to them. "So _do_ you know what Captain Swan is?"

"No idea," says Emma, frowning. She's not sure how she feels about Teddy's excited expression, or the way Killian is scratching the back of his head and sporting a nervous smile.

"Killian?"

"Aye, I know what it is," he admits.

"What is it?" asks Emma. She takes a sip of her wine.

"Go on, tell us," says Teddy. "What is it?"

"It is…" He clears his throat with a low cough. "The Captain part of Captain Killian Jones - I have no idea how they know about that - and the Swan from… Emma Swan. Captain… Swan." He throws a shrug in Emma's direction.

"Because the fans want you together, don't they?"

"It would seem so."

"What do you mean they _want_ us together?" Emma doesn't mean to make her voice sound so defensive.

"Oh no, they don't _want_ you together," says Teddy. "They believe you _are_ together."

Killain chokes on his rum. "Excuse me?"

"I take it by that tone you're not?"

"Definitely not," says Emma. She flushes.

There's a smile on Teddy's face. "Interesting of you to say that… Because we did a little search before the show and we found a website dedicated to proof that you two are actually an item."

"You're _joking,_ " says Killian, grinning. He throws a smile over to Emma, who just gives him a look. She has to press her lips together to stop a smile.

She should be angry about this, or frustrated in the very least but she's not. If anything she's interested to hear what they've come up with. A website dedicated to proof that they're together. She hasn't heard anything so ridiculous in her whole life. What 'proof' could they possibly have?

"This ought to be good," she says, sitting back on the sofa, folding her arms.

Teddy waves his hand and the website pops up on the screen. It's a cream colour, with an exaggerated script font spelling out 'Captain Swan' in pink letters. There's an image taken from the show where they're gazing into each other's eyes.

Underneath there's a subheading:

 **WHY CAPTAIN SWAN IS REAL.**

Killian and Emma exchange glances.

"Bloody hell," he says under his breath.

"Now obviously I'm not going to read _all_ the reasons," says Teddy as he scrolls through. "There's a lot of reasons here. Someone must have a lot of free time."

"Too much free time," says Emma between sips of her wine. She has the feeling she's going to need a lot more alcohol for this.

Killian is leaning forward on the sofa, eyes fixed on the screen as Teddy scrolls.

"Some of these are very same-y same-y and I don't think they count as _actual_ reasons." He pauses to throw a look down the camera. "For example there's one that says, 'There's so much tension on the show, they _have_ to be a couple'. I'm sorry to burst your bubble, but that's not a reason. That's just called good acting."

Emma snorts into her drink. The alcohol is beginning to go into her head now.

"But there are some others-" He's smiling now, getting to the good parts. "Which I think might be plausible…" His voice raises a notch in pitch as he speaks.

"Go on then, mate. What have you got for us?" says Killian. "Bring it."

"So according to _this_ , you were spotted holding hands."

"I don't think so," says Emma. "That's a lie. Made up things aren't reasons."

"Ohohoh," laughs Teddy. "There's a picture."

" _No…"_ says Killian in awe. He's leaning forward even more in his chair.

Teddy scrolls down a little to reveal a zoomed in picture of them actually holding hands. She recognises his rings. There's another photo under it which shows the actual picture. It was taken when they were getting out the car at the con, and Killian offered her his hand.

"Nonsense!" shouts Killian. He's grinning. "Slander! I was being a gentleman and helping her out the car."

"A gentleman, huh?" asks Teddy.

"I'm always a gentleman."

"Okay, fair enough, but how do you explain _this_ -" He scrolls down again and up comes a picture of them in that dance before FWC.

 _How did they get that?_ Emma thinks. They get anything. Can't she have any amount of privacy in her private life?

"Aren't we allowed to dance?" asks Emma. She's deliberately not looking at Killian, though his eyes are on her.

"Slow dance." Teddy gives her a 'I don't believe you' look. "And then you've both been spotted on the way to each other's houses."

"What can I say?" says Killian. "We're good friends."

"Emma even left your house in the early hours of the morning in the same clothes as before. It does seem a little bit odd…"

Killian raises his eyebrows. "Surely if we were together, she would have brought a change of clothes?"

"Perhaps, perhaps."

"I have a message for the Captain Swan fans," Killian says. Emma throws him a warning look. Teddy, however, looks amused. Then Killian looks right down one of the camera, eyes dark, his lips pressed together in a tight line. "I don't hold Emma's hand. The only reason she's been at my house is for rehearsal. I'll admit, myself and Emma Swan are good friends, we always have been. I can promise you wholeheartedly and honestly that we are not together…" His eyes twinkle in amusement. "Yet."

Now it's Emma's turn to choke on her drink. " _Excuse me?"_

Killian gives a shrug and sips his drink, trying to stop a smile.

"You heard it here first," says Teddy into the camera. "Just to clarify, you're _not_ together?"

"No!" Emma all but shouts.

"Okay well I believe you," Teddy nods. "So onto other things. I want to talk about the size of your house, Killian."

He raises his eyebrows. "Most people do."

"I have some pictures here, actually."

Teddy waves his hands and a picture of the outside of his house pops up on the screen. Even the screen doesn't do how big it is justice, which she comments outloud.

Teddy flips through different rooms in his house, starting with the living room and then going onto the kitchen and other rooms. He even has a picture of Killian's drinks cabinet, stocked with (mostly) rum. He goes through all the hallways, and comments on how clean it is.

"I know, right?" Emma mumbles.

Teddy points to the screen. "So this is the biggest bathroom?"

"No, it's not the biggest."

"Of course not. It only has -what- two baths and seven mirrors."

"You should _see_ the size of his bedroom," says Emma, projecting her thoughts out loud.

"You've seen his bedroom? Kinda looks like you _are_ dating," laughs Teddy. The pitch of his voice raises a little when he says, " _Awkward_!"

"Emma fell asleep while rehearsing," Killian explains, as smooth as ever. "I thought she could use a comfortable bed to sleep in."

"And you happened to put her in yours, not the other seven?"

"Aye. Well, mine is the best, naturally."

"And you slept…?"

"In one of the other bedrooms," Emma is quick to clarify. "Y'know, since he has so many. At least he didn't have to sleep on the sofa."

"At least!" Teddy chortles.

Towards the end of the show they listen to live music by some band trying to promote themselves. They sit through a little interview with the band, who also comment that they love the show and they truly believed that Emma and Killian are dating. No-one seems to mention her kisses with Graham and she's glad about that.

At the end of the show, Teddy thanks them for being there.

"It was a pleasure," says Killian, shaking his hand.

And then they're on their way, in a car and off out the studio. The more distance is put between them and that interview, the more Emma can breathe easily.

* * *

Later, Killian and Emma find a bar somewhere near the studio. She isn't quite ready to leave his company yet, and Killian seems the same. He's the one who suggested going for a drink (even though they've drunk plenty already), and he seemed surprised when Emma agreed.

"You were right," she tells him, a little shyly, when he expresses his shock. "We _are_ friends. Can't I go for a drink with my friend?"

That made him smile. "Aye, love. I'm all yours."

Now they sit in a dark booth at the back of the bar, hoping not to be spotted. Emma has taken Regina's advice and found somewhere expensive and discreet. There aren't loads of people in, but enough to hide them, and the lighting is dark. The only people who must know who they are are the bar staff, who keep replacing their drinks when they run out.

That must be why they've gotten onto such a dark subject, the endless supply of alcohol.

"I have… struggled with things in my past." He scratches the back of his ear, a little awkwardly, eyes cast downwards. "Even now, I still struggle. Sometimes it's hard to find a balance. My brother, he's always helped keep me on my path."

"Your brother, huh?" She downs half her drink in one.

"Liam. Why the tone? I know you've met him."

She shrugs it off. She doesn't really want to talk down about his brother, not when Killian holds him in such high esteem. "Yeah, I have."

"C'mon, Swan. What is it?"

"Nothing."

"Emma..."

"I just don't think he likes me very much." She admits, finishing the other half of her drink. As soon as she places her empty glass on the table, it's replaced with another one.

"Nonsense. How couldn't he?"

"He saw an article about my past. And he… saw the pictures of me and Graham in the papers. And I guess he just…" She shrugs.

He's quiet for a moment. Then, softly: "That has nothing to do with him. Who you spend your time with is none of his business."

Maybe it's the alcohol, but it takes a while for his words to sink in. When they do, they have a completely different meaning. "Killian, I'm not with Graham."

"Perhaps not, love but that's none of my business either." A jaw clench. A sip of his drink.

"He's just a friend."

"And what am I?"

Emma meets the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, they just stare into each other's faces.

Finally, she says, "I don't know." It's the truth.

"Graham is a better man than me." His knuckles are white, wrapped around the glass. "I've made so many mistakes. Hurt so many people."

"Killian…"

"Graham is worthy of you."

"Killian, I don't _want_ Graham."

A crease appears between his eyebrows. "I saw you."

"What?"

"You kissed him."

"I thought you knew?"

"I did. The first time. But you kissed him again."

He must have followed her home. Did he leave the blonde?

Emma takes a long sip of her drink as she thinks how to phrase her words. How does she get across that she is telling the truth? That she _doesn't_ want Graham. "Do you know why I kissed him?" she asks, keeping her eyes trained on his.

A shrug, a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Alas, I do not."

It takes courage to say the next words. She knows as soon as they're out, it will be a confession, something she's kept too close to her heart all this time, something she's only just beginning to realise. "I kissed him because you went out on another date with… that girl."

"Tink?"

Tink. So _precious._ She nods.

"You were jealous," he says. It's not a question.

"I wasn't, I just… I..."

He doesn't look at her as he says, "I was jealous too."

"You were?"

"I told you I was. It was maddening."

She bites her lip, looking down into her drink, sparkling in the light. "Why?"

"Graham's kissed you, Emma. He's kissed you." His hands tighten on the glass again as he brings it up to his lips and drinks deeply.

" _You've_ kissed me."

"That may be but it's not the same, is it?" His eyes flicker up to hers, quick and embarrassed. "I've kissed you in a room full of people, all watching, waiting. I can't even enjoy it because I'm too busy thinking about which way to tilt my head, or exactly where my hands should be. Do I place them on your neck because it makes you tremble or because it looks good?"

She doesn't know what to say to that. She's shocked. It's almost like a confession. _All_ of this is a confession. Dangerous ground. A minefield. She should tell him she's going, that she has to get back for Henry even if it is a lie, but before she has chance, Killian is speaking again.

"And then there's Graham. Bloody perfect _Graham_ who just did it. Who just went for it and now has the pleasure of kissing you without a thousand eyes watching him do so. He can hold you _just_ to hold you."

"I-"

"I've said it before, I'll say it again, he's a better man than me, Swan." Killian shakes his head. "A cleverer man than me. If I had any sense at all, I would have done what he did a long time ago."

She swallows.

"Why didn't you?"

When he meets her eyes, his hold a twinge of sadness. "I'm long past taking things that clearly aren't mine."

"Milah," she says before she can stop herself. It must be the drink. "No, sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

She can see the emotions pass over his face: fear, pain, loss, and it makes her want to reach out, to touch his hand. She knows what Graham told her, but Killian can't be the only one to blame. Not with something like this.

"Yes," he says softly. "Milah."

"She was Gold's wife," she says. It's not an accusing tone. She's not blaming him, she's just stating a fact.

"So you've heard the stories then?"

"I've heard one side." She pauses, tension in the air. And then: "What happened?"

"I'm going to need another drink for this," he says softly, signaling the bar staff. They top them up with fresh drinks. Emma takes a generous gulp.

"What happened?" she repeats.

"I fell in love with her. Plain and simple." He's looking away from her, down at his drink like he's ashamed. She can't help it, she reaches out and places a hand over his. "I met her in a bar one night. She was drinking alone. A man was giving her unwanted attention, and so I fixed it for her." A ghost of a smile at the memory. "She told me right then and there she was married, and I respected her wishes. But the next time I met her, I…" He shakes his head.

"You?" she prompts softly. Her hand is still over his.

"It was clear she was unhappy in her marriage. She was a great deal younger than him, but her parents pushed it. He was a friend of theirs. I suppose I just…" He scratches the back of his head. "The affair lasted months, almost a year, and for a time I almost thought we'd gotten away with it. There were a few close calls but we always knew how to cover our tracks. Until..."

He's silent for a moment but she doesn't want to say anything and wreck his train of thought. She's hanging on his every word, watching every twinge of pain that crosses his face.

"He caught us. He was supposed to be away on work, a part in some British Drama, but his flight was cancelled and-" He swallows. "I was in his kitchen, and she was upstairs. He knew as soon as he walked in. I was fully clothed, I could have made up some bloody elaborate story, but he knew. He could tell by the guilt written all over my face."

She squeezes his hand gently. There's nothing but pain and shame in his expression, and she feels a sudden need to comfort him. "I don't think you're a bad person, Killian."

"You haven't heard the worst of it." He laughs, but it's humourless. "She came straight to me before he had a chance to throw her out. For weeks we didn't see him. We thought we never would." His face darkens. His jaw clenches. "But he turned up with a gun. It all happened so _fast_. He was after _me_ but she was the one who died."

Emma's free hand flies up to cover her mouth. Of all the things she imagined, she couldn't have imagined this. She would _never_ have imagined this. Her eyes fill with tears. "Oh, Killian…" She blinks them away.

"It's okay," he says, tense. "It was a long time ago. It went to court, but he managed to evade prison. He's slippery that way."

"How can you still work with him?"

"Truth be told, I didn't know he auditioned for the show, let alone he was one of the producers. I badly needed the money. I was already facing eviction from my home. My family had loaned me all the money they could. I-" He takes in a breath. "- had a borderline drug addiction. I needed this role to survive. I'd always prided myself on my survival skills. So we buried the hatchet. We both had blame. The only thing is…"

"What?"

"I didn't _exactly_ bury the hatchet. I did everything I could to get him off the show. I thought if I took the role, I could destroy him. Exterminate him like the bloody... _crocodile_ he is. So I sorted myself out, spent time in rehab during the filming hiatuses, and got myself back on track. I needed a clear head to get rid of him. I wanted him dead."

"But he's still on the show," she says.

"I know. Every plan I had was foiled." Another one of those ghost smiles crosses his face. "Though last autumn, I had a plan I knew would work. I was going to frame him. I'm good at things like that. I have connections. I won't tell you the specifics - I don't want you to think even worse of me - but it was foolproof. It was all going according to plan until…" He drops his eyes to the table.

She squeezes his hand again, brushing her thumb over his. "Until…?"

His eyes return to hers. "Until I met you."

" _Me?"_

"You make me want to be a better man for you."

Her face is slowly turning white. She doesn't know how to process this, _any_ of this. She can't blame Killian, she just can't, but that doesn't mean she knows how to feel. She starts to move her hand away, but he holds onto it and flips them over so his hand is on top. He intertwines their fingers.

"Milah was my first love. My only love," he says to their hands. "I never truly believed I would be able to … care for anyone else, not like that. And yet, here I am."

"Here you are," she says, barely audible.

"I've never told anyone that. About Milah. Liam knows, but he's the only one."

"And you trust me not to tell anyone."

He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Hopefully you won't share such things during your intimacies with Graham."

"Killian, I've told you before. I'm not _with_ Graham. I never was. He kissed me and I kissed him back just to see, on a whim. But I…" She shakes her head. "He's just a friend. A _good_ friend."

"I'd hoped so. After all, you don't have a good ship name." This time when he smiles, it's more genuine. "Not like Captain Swan."

Despite everything, she giggles. "I can't believe they think we're together."

He raises his eyebrows. "Really?"

"What a completely stupid, ridiculous-"

He stops her words with a kiss. It comes out of nowhere, a complete surprise. A good surprise. But his lips hardly touch hers, before he's pulling back, cheeks flushed and embarrassed, "I'm sorry, Emma, I shouldn't have-"

She's kissing him again before she can stop herself. Both his hands move up to her face, over her hair, as he slides closer, mouth soft and insistent on hers. It's hot in the bar and dark in the booth and he's kissing her and it's better than all the times she's imagined it. It's better than the filming because it's _real,_ and it's better than Graham because it's what she wants.

"Neal," she says when they break away. Her nose is still bumping against hers.

"Uh… It's Killian, love."

A breathless laugh. "No." She moves back to look up into his face; into his eyes suddenly sparkling with a new light. "That's my baggage. Neal. If we're talking about baggage.

"Who's Neal?" He asks softly, head tilting to the side.

"Henry's father," she says." Killian raises his eyebrows, but doesn't speak, urging her to continue. "He stole a couple of watches worth ten thousand dollars. We were going to take the watches and move away, start a new life. But he took off with the watches himself, and let me take the fall."

"Bloody bastard."

"And then there's Walsh." She takes a deep breath. She doesn't know exactly why she's being so open with him, but it could have something to do with the drink. It must be the drink. "We were engaged and he, uh, left me. At the last minute. Days before the date."

Killian gently strokes her hair. "Why?"

"I don't know." She bites her lip, brows furrowing. There is still a twinge of pain when she thinks about him, no matter how thick she makes her skin. She _finally_ opened her heart to him, finally agreed to marry him after months of asking, and then he left her. "I guess he didn't want me anymore."

"If I were that lucky, I would never let you go."

She looks up into his face. He's telling the truth. "I know," is all she can say.

After one smouldering look which turns her insides to jelly, he's kissing her again, pulling her as close to him as possible. He touches her gently, like he's trying to memorise her, and it's not too long before they're tangled, wrapped up in each other in that little dark booth and it's _insane_ , it's like she can see fireworks and she knows she's too wrapped up in him. But here, cushioned by the blurring lines of alcohol, that's okay.

For now.

* * *

 **We're up to Chapter 22 already? Maaaan, how time flies. I hope you liked this one! I loved writing it, and I've been looking forward to posting it so much. The Captain Swan is real, guys.**


	23. Chapter 23

Without giving spoilers, this chapter is a little - uh- mature. But not explicit!

* * *

The whole of the next morning Emma has butterflies. From the moment she wakes up, all the way to work. They flutter with every thought, with every movement. Even though she was stupidly drunk last night, she can still remember almost every detail.

His hands in her hair, his lips against hers.

During make-up she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Her face is too pale, her eyes are too bright. She jumps every time the door opens, but it's not him. It's never him. She sits on the chair, not as chatty as she usually is.

"It's a gorgeous day out," Ariel comments as she combs her hair.

"Mm."

His hands in her hair, his lips against hers.

"Emma, are you okay? You seem a little… distracted."

"Just tired," says Emma.

She tries to smile but it comes out as an awkward grimace. She searches for any sign that he's been here, or any sign that he will be here. But he doesn't show. She doesn't have a scene with him either. It's a good thing. She keeps messing up her lines without him here, she can't imagine what it would be like _with_ him.

She's sat in the cafeteria when Elsa finds her, staring at an apple and some water. She hadn't bothered getting a proper meal or even a sandwich, afraid she wouldn't eat it. Even now she watches the apple with a slight disgust. She opens her water and takes a sip.

"Not hungry?" asks Elsa as she sits down opposite Emma with a tray full of food.

"Nope," she says.

"How come?"

"Hangover." In spite of herself, she takes a bite out of her apple. As soon as she does, she regrets it. It crunches loudly and it's too sweet.

"Oh yeah." She picks up her sandwich, lettuce and sauce falling out of it as she takes a bite. Once she swallows she says, "Went out drinking after the show?"

"Uhuh."

"With _Killian_."

Emma gives her a look over her apple. "Don't say it like that."

"Say it like what?"

"Like that."

After half of her sandwich filling has fallen out, Elsa gives up and drops it back onto her plate. She starts on her potato chips, opening the packet with a pop. "All I'm saying is we _all_ saw the interview on TV last night."

"So?"

" _So._ Captain Swan. _Really_?" She raises her eyebrows.

Emma shrugs. "I can't help it if the fans want us together. Fans are crazy."

"Emma, they don't _want_ you together. They think you _are_ together. After all that evidence, I'm starting to believe it myself, and I _work_ with you."

Emma rolls her eyes. "We're not together." Feelings and images of last night flood her mind again. She rests a hand over her stomach, hoping to squash the butterflies.

Elsa leans forward. "And why _aren't_ you?"

"Because we're not."

"Oh, come on. We're all noticed the doe eyes and yearning looks."

"I _don't_ yearn." Emma takes another bite out of her apple. This time more aggressively.

"He does," comes Robin's voice, as he slides in next to Elsa.

 _Robin._ Where did he come from? Was he listening to their _private_ conversation the whole time? The thought replaces the nerves with anger. She can feel her face starting to flush.

"He does," Elsa agrees.

"He talks about you all the time. It's all 'Emma does this, Emma does that'. I love the man, but it's rather getting on my nerves."

"This is ridiculous," says Emma because it's the only thing she can say.

They're not together, no, but she can't exactly tell them about their kissing session last night. She can't even _think_ about it without losing almost all train of thought.

"You're blushing," Elsa accuses.

"I am _not._ " She resists the urge to cover her face in her hands like a schoolgirl.

Then she spots him, and she _does_ cover her face with her hands, if only for a second. He's walking over to them (well, Emma), his expression fully fixed on her. When she catches his eyes, he smiles. Cue butterflies.

"Swan," he says, as he slides into the seat next to her.

"Hi, Elsa," says Elsa.

"How are you doing, Robin?" says Robin.

He waves a dismissive hand in their direction, and then he turns fully to Emma, voice dropping a notch. "So," he murmurs. "I was wondering if you'd like to come over to mine tonight. To rehearse."

"'To rehearse'. Sure thing, mate," coughs Will. Will? When did he get here? All she needs is for Graham to turn up and that would be _perfect_.

Killian ignores them, keeping his eyes firmly on Emma's. "What do you say, love?"

She considers it. They both finish early today because they _do_ have a big scene coming up, and they need some time to work out how to play it. That'll be made up later by late nights and early mornings. And she _really, really, really_ wants to be alone with Killian right now. That conversation and kiss have lit a spark in her. A spark which just keeps growing and growing the more she leaves it unattended.

"Sure thing," she says, trying to keep her voice neutral.

"Excellent," he says softly. He's inching even closer, his leg pressing up against hers. "Shall we say eight?"

"Are we _even_ here?" comes Will's voice again, and then a hissed "Ow" as Elsa jabs him in the ribs.

"Fine by me."

"Excellent," he repeats. In one swift motion he rises, eyes never leaving hers. Then he disappears across the cafeteria and out the door. Emma lets out a slow and steady breath.

…

When she finally gets back into her house, at six PM, she drops her bag on the floor with a thump and makes something to eat. Just pasta because it's quick and it's easy and she's still not entirely hungry.

Afterwards, she showers and moisturises. She _never_ moisturises. She picks out her navy jeans and a button up shirt and dries her hair until it's the softest it's ever been.

Only when she's trying to do her make-up in that cramped bathroom does it hit Emma that she now has enough money to buy another house, a bigger house. The dollars keep rolling in and she's hardly touched a penny of it. It's in her nature to save every cent she can, but to have _this_ amount of money and not do anything with it is insane. She makes a mental note to talk to Henry about it later.

She gets a cab to Killian's. The whole way she nervously watches out the window at the lights in store windows flicking as the car drives past. In no time at all, the car pulls up outside his house, and Emma throws some money in the driver's direction. She tells him to keep the change, and hurls herself out the car and up the steps before he can reply.

Killian answers the door before she even knocks. He opens it to see Emma stood with a fist in the air, inches away from the wood.

"Eager?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.

"Ha! You sound like me. Come on in."

She follows him inside, glancing around at the familiar white walls and laminated flooring. She catches the scent of an air freshener, and quickly locates one which is plugged into the wall.

Once again, she's astounded at how tidy his house is. Sure, she might have a teenage boy, but she's pretty sure if she didn't have Henry her house wouldn't be anywhere near as sparkling as this.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asks, as she follows him into the kitchen.

"What have you got?"

"Rum." He throws her a cheeky glance over his shoulder. "Is that okay?"

"It's fine."

He pours rum into two glasses as she brings her script out her bag and throws it onto the table, as well as a pen. She quickly learnt to always have a pen on hand for notes and such. Now she's always making notes. Her script is covered in them. Scribbles of every colour in the rainbow.

He holds the glass to her, and she takes it with a soft, "Thanks."

"You know, I'm surprised you said yes to this," he muses as he takes a sip of his drink.

Her eyes are on the script. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Things have been slightly… stormy between us recently. I feared we'd be sailing on bumpy seas for the rest of our partnership."

"Oh?" If she were honest with herself, she feared the same. She and Killian had a strange start and then an even stranger middle. She's never found someone so irritating yet intoxicating before. How does that even work?

"Aye. Especially after… last night." His eyes flicker up to hers, like he's testing the water, trying to work out whether they're going to acknowledge last night or pretend it didn't happen.

"After last night," she confirms with a small smile.

He smiles back and drinks deeply from his glass before setting it down on the table. "Shall we rehearse?"

...

They're standing in the living room now, scripts in hands as they throw lines back and forth like a tennis match. This is a big, romantic scene where Alexander is finally confessing his feelings, _finally_ being honest with Rose. As much as Emma loves Rose's character, she's starting to see more similarities between herself and Alexander. She too has a hard time opening her heart. Even now, she's debating whether to get out of there, but something in Killian's eyes keeps her rooted to the spot.

"It's like you're always in two minds," Emma accuses, eyes following the stream of words on the page. "Can't you just love me or leave me?"

Killian fixes his eyes on Emma's face as he speaks. "I'm afraid I can't live without you."

She's blushing, she can feel it, but she keeps her eyes fixed on script. All she has to do is keep focus on the script. "Today, maybe. But what happens tomorrow when you want to leave me again?"

"I will _never_ leave you again."

"Prove it."

Before she even has a chance to ask them to do it again, he's kissing her. It shocks her, mostly because when they've rehearsed scenes before, they've _never_ rehearsed the kisses. It's one big no in the world of acting, especially with drinks in hand. (Granted, their drinks lay abandoned on the side, and she's hardly touched hers.)

"How was that?" He asks as soon as they part.

"What? T-the lines or the…" God, did she just stutter? Did she actually stutter?

He raises one eyebrow the way he does. "Both."

"Oh, um." She swallows. "It wasn't… bad?"

He kisses her again. It's gentle and loving, and something deemed utterly perfect for TV. He lingers for a moment, so she can feel his steady breathing. They both open their eyes at the same time and stare at each other for a few seconds. Tension crackles in the air.

"I don't think Alexander would do it like that," Killian admits after a moment, voice low. He's still staring at her, and his eyes have a wild look about them. He blinks quickly, a flush rising to his cheeks. "I think he would take her face in his hands. Like this."

Warmth encases Emma's cheeks as he places his hands on either side of her face. His mouth falls against hers, and his unshaven chin scratches against her cheek but it's not unpleasant. Not when he's kissing her the way he is. And he has _never_ kissed her like _this_ before.

It's over all too quickly. She follows his lips as he moves away, the tip of her nose bumping his.

"What about that?" he whispers, removing his hands to brush them down her hair, right to the very tips.

A million answers course through her mind, but one speaks out through the sea. She knows what he wants to hear, even if they're treading on a minefield. "Good," she whispers back. "But it needs to be longer," she says, just because she _needs_ him to kiss her longer.

He smiles, slow and seductive and suddenly she gets it - he wants her to play along. What an absolute-

He kisses her rough, almost devouring, and she can't help the little whimper that escapes. One hand buries itself in her mass of unruly waves. The other strokes down to her waist, where he curls a tight arm around her, and pulls her to him. The fabric of their clothes rubs together. Heat radiates from him, from every part of his body, from every touch, from their kiss.

His arm doesn't keep her locked in position for long. His hand moves feverishly up her body, like he can't stop touching her.

Perhaps he can't.

Again it's he who breaks the kiss, but he doesn't stray too far. His face remains close, so that she can make out the scar on his cheek, and the colours in his eyes. They move restlessly, from her eyes to her hair to her lips, like he's memorising every feature on her face. It takes her a moment to realise he's trembling.

"I imagine," he begins, "and I may be guessing, that he might want to kiss her like this..."

Before Emma has a moment to take that in, he's peppering uneven kisses from her lips, downward. "Like this." He's slowly walking her backwards, in a steady rhythm and she stumbles blindly. "Like _this_." His mouth is at her jaw now, kissing a path from her ear to her chin. Her back hits a wall, cold even through her sweater and jeans. He presses every inch of his body against hers, eliciting a gasp. The gasp isn't born of acting and it isn't Rose's reaction. It solely belongs to Emma. Then again, this isn't Alexander kissing her.

His lips dip further down, just below her jawline, and onto her neck. Slow, hot and needing, he kisses again and again. Over and over.

"Is this right?" He murmurs, a low rumble that makes her quiver, breath against her throat. "Would she react like this?"

"I think Rose would-" Her voice falters as he continues his sweet, slow assault. "Rose would-"

Her hands sink into his hair, curling around those soft locks. When her hands have been in his hair before, she's not had time to truly savour the moment. It was for a job. Now, she commits it to memory. So soft, so thick.

He chuckles. It's dark and throaty and muffled and _doing things to her._ "Rose would…?"

" _Killian."_

And just like that, it's like she's flicked a switch on him. His kisses come not necessarily faster, but with a new sense of urgency. Hungry. Demanding.

She's felt his hands tangled in her hair, lips against her neck but never like _this._ Before, it was for the cameras. The intention was never to seduce, but to entertain. His motions were robotic, almost detached but _here,_ right now, they're making her knees weak. Especially when his hands begin to snake up her sweater, as he murmurs in her ear.

"Killian…" Emma warns, completely breathless.

Killian's head snaps up to gaze at her. His eyes still have that wild look, hinting unspeakable things that turn her to jelly.

"Ah, my apologies," he begins, pressing another kiss to her mouth. "It's bad form to make love to a woman against a wall. Especially the first time." Without further ado he scoops her up bridal style, before she has a moment to catch her breath, or process exactly what he's just said. "And a woman as beautiful as you, Emma Swan," he continues, his playful voice reminiscent of the usual Killian Jones, as he carries her up the stairs, "Deserves my _full_ and prompt attention."

She doesn't comment, but she's sure he can read her thoughts on her face, and she's _positive_ they reflect the nerves fluttering in her stomach. Her cheeks are pink. It's like she's on fire.

He nudges the door open with his foot. They walk into a midst of cool darkness. It's amazing Killian doesn't fall over anything because she can hardly make out his face, which might be a good thing. The look in his eyes is something she'll still see in the dead of night, when no-one else is around.

"I'll need you to turn the light on, love."

Shaking fingers drag across the cold wall, searching for the switch. She feels nothing but the smooth plaster.

"Anytime today," Killian warns, strained.

"What's the matter, Jones?" she asks as her fingers continue their search. "Aren't strong enough to keep going?"

"You're about to find out exactly _how_ long I can go for, love."

Usually any man's flirtatious nature is enough to repulse her, but _this_ man… She blushes in the darkness, grateful he can't see her. Though perhaps he can feel the heat radiate from her cheeks.

Her fingertips collide with that small, little cog of plastic. She presses it in. Light pours from the bulb, a little too harsh for her liking. Killian's too, it would seem, as he gestures towards the cog. "Dim the lights, if you would."

She does so, twisting the cog until the outlines of the furnitures blur, and a soft light falls on them. She watches his face as he carries her over to the bed, jaw set in determination. When he catches her watching him, he offers her a smile. Small and… nervous? Killian Jones, nervous?

Gently, he lays her down on the silk bedsheets, like she's the most precious thing on the entire earth. The cold is a little shocking at first, prickling through her clothes. The bed dips as he climbs on, and braces both his arms by the side of her head. His eyes trail over her; her pale hair splayed out over the pillow like a fan, her face staring back.

She's not sure if she's doing the right thing. This could end badly for the both of them, especially if tomorrow comes and she runs. There's a very good chance she'll run.

Yet it's been so _long_ and Killian is so attractive and dark and damn sexy.

He nips just under her jaw in a way that makes her toes curl. His hair tickles her chin and she can't help but tangle her hands in it _again_. His hair is swiftly becoming an addiction for her.

"I am going to," he murmurs, " _worship_ you, Emma."

Her breath hitches in her throat. "Worship?"

"I have the firm belief that a man who does not properly worship his love," he pauses. "Isn't a man at all."

 _Sweet God above_ , she thinks.

"Oh," she says. And then, "When you say worship…"

"You'll see." His lips ghost over her collarbone, just before he moves up to look at her again. She catches his smirk through heavy lidded eyes as his fingertips trail over her body.

She writhes beneath him, unable to keep his gaze. It's too intense, a mix of passion, desire and (dare she say it) love. Though she's sure all these are emotions of the moment, they make her feel vulnerable.

Slowly, he moves so both his hands are on either side of her head again. Her shaking hands move to his shirt. She undoes the first button. And then another. Then another. All in between slow, lazy kisses. Soon she's sliding it off his shoulders. Tentatively, her fingertips brush over his skin. Along his shoulders and the muscles in his arms. Down his chest.

"Your turn," he grazes against her ear.

She doesn't trust herself to speak, and so she sits up. He moves with her, sitting back on his heels. She moves to her knees so they're level. Cautiously, his fingertips run along the rim of her sweater, dancing along her skin. His movements slow and eventually, they stop.

"What?" She asks.

"It's nothing, love," he says. "It's just… I've wanted to do this for a long time." His eyes move to hers. They're sincere.

She leans forward and kisses him, softly. His palms fall flat against her skin.

"I've wanted to do this." He kisses her again.

"You kiss me all the time."

"Not like this." His next kiss makes her body crumble against him. He pulls her sweater over her head and throws it into the darkness. "Not here." He kisses her shoulder. "Or here." He kisses her collarbone. He's slowly pushing her back onto the bed. "Or here… Or here… " His kisses are at her abdomen now. "Or _here_. Or-"

She gasps.

A dark chuckle. " _Here."_

Suddenly, the intimacy is all too much for her. She hadn't even let Walsh touch her like this, or kiss her like this, and they were _engaged_ , for crying out loud! So why is she letting Killian? His slow kisses are torturous, almost too much to bear when she just wants to-

Just wants to what exactly?

Not get attached. Though she fears it might be too late.

 _It's bad form to make love to a woman against a wall_. His words ring in her ears. Make love. He said make love. She hadn't really registered at the time (She was, and still _is,_ unable to think clearly.) But that's what he said.

Make love is what _couples_ do who are _in_ love. And she's not in love. She doesn't want to make _love_. She wants a damn good-

"Stop," she breathes out.

He's back over her in an instant, eyes wide and concerned. "What's wrong? Are you okay?" Guilt bubbles to the surface.

"No, no, I'm fine," she says, a little shocked. "I just thought… maybe we could… y'know… get this show on the road?"

His brows knit together in confusion for a moment. Then realisation dawns on his face. But rather than be offended, his lips curl into a smile. "You mean…"

" _Now_."

He licks his lips. Quickly, in thought, not slowly and seductive like he's done so many times before. It's like he's considering something. Perhaps, the perfect words.

He purses his lips. "Not quite yet, love."

And then he moves back to her neck, back to kissing and trailing, drawing noises from her she didn't even know she could make.

It's _too_ intimate. It's making her skin flush and her voice break. The kind of kissing she won't forget, that's for sure. It does _nothing_ to help the fire within her.

She runs her hands down his body, right down to his pants. Before she can even get to his button, he's got her hands, moving them away. He pins them above her head, in an inescapable grasp.

 _That's_ what she wants. She wants demanding. She wants rough. Like so many one night stands before this, she wants to forget, without feeling too close to her partner. With Killian, she's feeling too close to him already. Her walls are (have) slipping (slipped). She's trying to build them back up brick by brick but it's hard. Especially when she is so exposed to him, and not just by lack of clothes.

He moves back to her neck again. His hands, instead of holding her roughly, slip and intertwine with hers as his lips dance across her skin. Lazy, drawn out kisses and soft gentle bites that make her eyes roll back into her head a little.

It's too… It's too...

"Not like this!" she gasps.

" _Yes_ , like this," he growls.

"Killian…"

He's over her again, looking into her eyes with a soft expression. "Say the word and I'll stop. We can stop right now. I won't push you. I would _never_ push you."

"I…"

"Do you want to stop, Emma?"

"No," she says, without hesitation.

And they don't stop.

* * *

 **Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed that chapter! Writing it was SO MUCH FUN, I can't lie. Let me know what you think!**

 **And now I've got you all here, I'd just like to say that I'm bringing out a new multi-chapter fanfic this week, possibly tomorrow. And I am SUPER excited about it. More excited than I was about this one and I was pretty excited about this one. It's Captain Swan of course and I don't know what to say about it because I don't want to give anything away. It's a lot different from this one. So for those who are interested, keep your eyes peeled! I promise you it's well worth the read.**


	24. Chapter 24

When Emma wakes, she knows where she is. It isn't like those nights in the past, when she's woken groggy and confused, searching for clues as to where she is, before the memories return in her hazy, hungover state.

Last night, she was stone cold sober. She hardly touched the rum he offered, leaving it abandoned on the table. It's probably still there.

His arm is around her waist, underneath the covers, pulling her close to him. That sounds the first set of alarm bells.

The second set of alarm bells occur when she realises she's reciprocated in kind, her hand lying flat against his chest, over the steady thump thump thump of his heart. His other hand rests over hers, keeping it there.

Frightened she might wake him, she doesn't move but instead her eyes dance around the room, eyelashes brushing against his skin. She has a clear view of the clock; six thirty in the morning. Henry won't get home until the evening, but it doesn't make her want to stay. If anything, she knows she has to get out of there now.

Emma doesn't _do_ this. She doesn't have sex and then _cuddle_. Usually she doesn't know the men she sleeps with (apart from Neal and Walsh, both of whom turned out to be jerks). She normally wakes with them, as far away from each other as they can get, and begins her hasty retreat.

She has a feeling that if Killian woke, he'd convince her to stay and make her talk about _feelings_. The thought churns her stomach.

And she does actually like Killian. She likes him a lot. He's funny, kind, loving, but so were Neal and Walsh, and they'd both burned her.

 _It was a moment of lust, that's all_ , comes that reliable voice in her head. She was caught up in the moment. He's an attractive man. They do a lot of intimate scenes on the show.

Very slowly, she slides her hand from under his. He doesn't stir much. There's only a slight twitch in his face as she untangles herself from his arms. The bed creaks as she rolls off it, onto the floor, and he _still_ doesn't wake. She thanks God he's a heavy sleeper. As soon as she's put some distance between them, she feels his absence like a weight in her chest.

She dresses quickly, tugging and pulling until she's fully clothed. She has to separate their clothes, which somehow ended in a pile together. That makes her flush in embarrassment.

With one last look at his sleeping form, she leaves.

* * *

The first thing she does when she gets home is take a shower. She wipes every kiss from her skin, every touch from her body in hot, soapy water. It doesn't take away the memories though, the memories which make her cheeks burn. She can't stop thinking about him. It's even worse than when he kissed her and it makes her feel weak.

And Emma Swan does not like to feel weak.

If one thing's sure, she can't face him alone. So she rings Mary Margaret.

* * *

"I'm so excited!" Mary Margaret squeals as the bug pulls up in the parking lot. She's looking around with wide, doe eyes. The expression makes Emma smile. Why didn't she do this sooner? "Are you sure I'm allowed to come?"

"Well, Killian brought his brother, so…" she shrugs. They get out the car and Emma locks it. "So first there's makeup and and then there's costume."

"Do I get to talk to the…" She glances around, and then lowers her voice to a whisper. " _Stars?_ "

Emma can't help it; she laughs. "Yeah! I'll introduce you to them!"

She introduces her to Elsa first, who's in one of the makeup chairs. She smiles up at Emma when she walks in. Mary Margaret is ecstatic, though she tries to hide it, for fear of looking like a stalker (she told Emma the exact same thing on the way to set).

Mary Margaret watches Emma getting her makeup and hair done with awe. She thinks it's amazing how something so simple can transform someone.

"Where's Killian?" Elsa asks, combing her hair with her fingers. "I haven't seen him yet. He normally comes and says hello."

"Oooo, yes, where's Killian?" asks Mary Margaret, stars in her eyes. "I want to see him again."

Emma rearranges her face into an impassive expression and does her best casual shrug, even though his name sends a thrill through her. "I don't know. How am I supposed to know?"

Elsa looks taken back at her tone. "Okay. I just thought because you were at his last night."

"You _were?_ " Mary Margaret sends her a look, which Emma rolls her eyes at.

"She was." Elsa turns to Emma. "I thought you might have stayed over like you did last time."

" _Last time?"_ Mary Margaret's look screams _tell me everything_.

"So? Just because we were rehearsing doesn't mean I know where he is every second."

Even though they've just met, and even though they know nothing about each other, Mary Margaret and Elsa exchange glances. The something-doesn't-quite-add-up glances. It makes her uneasy.

"Come on, Mary Margaret," says Emma. "Time for costume."

With any luck, he won't be there.

* * *

And he isn't. Not in costume, at least. But he does find her on set, later, in between scenes. Emma is chatting to Mary Margaret, keeping her company. She's already introduced her to Grumpy, who seems to love her for some reason. They get on like a house on fire. He keeps asking her if she wants coffee or water or anything else. Maybe it's because she's heavily pregnant.

"Emma?" The sound of his voice unleashes a whole stream of memories.

Emma groans (which earns an eyebrow raise from Mary Margaret) and turns around. Killian is walking towards her, without his usually friendly smile. Instead, his lips are pressed together, eyebrows furrowed.

"Killian?" She says, folding her arms. She tries to keep her expression impassive, but she hasn't any control over the blush creeping up her neck and over her cheeks. As soon as she sees him, she's thrown headfirst into more memories of the night before. She hates it. "What's up?"

He comes to a halt. The crease between his eyebrows is deepening. "What do you mean "What's up?" I think you know." His eyes flicker over to Mary Margaret.

She immediately gets his hint. "Sorry, should I give you two a minute?"

Killian lets out a relieved "yes" while Emma calls out a desperate "no". His look is sharp, but Emma ignores it. Instead she directs her gaze to Mary Margaret. Wide, pleading eyes beg her to stay.

She's already backing away, hands clasped in front of her. Emma's daggers do nothing to stop her. "I wanted to have a look around the set anyway. I'll see you later, Emma."

Then she's gone, and Emma's left with both Killian and the elephant in the room. She avoids his eyes - hands on her hips, bouncing on her toes a little. It's her battle stance. She remains like that, not speaking. Those eyes are on her and she wishes he'd _stop it._ But she isn't going to be the one to break the silence.

"I woke up and you weren't there." His voice is flat.

She's still ignoring his gaze, but his eyes are burning holes into her. She remembers his gaze the night before, and how he looked right into her eyes as he-

Her cheeks tinge pink.

She folds her arms, but still doesn't speak. She isn't doing it to look like a spoiled child, but instead, she's struggling to find the words. Her mind grasps and fumbles for them, but they refuse to come. It's surprising - usually Emma has a response for everything. She's quick on her feet and quick with her mind.

"Emma?" The softer tone to his voice makes her look up. And then he's speaking. "My love, I... won't push you. I understand why you left. We can take it slow. Last night was…" His eyes move away from hers for a moment, a small, embarrassed smile. "Fast. And perhaps poor form on my part. A woman as beautiful as you should be treated properly." Another pause. " _You_ should be treated properly."

"Killian…"

She's backing away from him. There's a tightness in her chest, something she gets whenever she thinks about the future. She doesn't… do this. She doesn't "take it slow". She doesn't do dates or flowers. She's too busy for that. She's always been too busy for that. Why would she start now? Why does he want to change her?

But he's watching her with those eyes, so kind, so gentle. He's always been gentle. He's always been patient.

She has a sudden urge to be in his arms again. To be wrapped up and warm, safe, happy with the man she-

That man she what? She can't even allow herself to think the words. She's too wrapped up in him already. He already has too much of an effect on her, with his accent and his 'loves.' It's been a long time since someone's turned her knees to jelly like a damn teenager.

"I can't do this," she finally manages to say.

"Emma…" he says slowly. "I'm not going to hurt you like Neal or Walsh did. Look at me. Have I told you a lie?"

He's telling the truth, but that doesn't mean anything. Neal meant it when he told her he loved her. Walsh meant it when he told her he wanted to marry her. Killian means it _now_ , but that means nothing.

And it's much bigger than that. She's not some stupid teenager still getting over a heartbreak. She has a lot of things to think about. Henry, for one.

"Just because it's true now, doesn't mean it's going to be true later."

"Emma." He closes the distance between them. "Give me a chance. C'mon, love."

"I can't. I'm sorry."

"So you're just going to ignore what happened last night? Pretend it never happened."

"Pretend what never happened?" She keeps her voice cool. "That we had sex?" She wants it to sound casual, like it's no big deal. That's what it's always been, no big deal. An itch to scratch.

"You know full well that it's not that simple."

" _You're_ the one making it complicated."

Hurt flashes across his face, disappearing as quickly as it came. It's like a punch in her stomach. He takes another step forward, studying her face.

"Emma, I beg of you to be honest with me. If I've hurt you, if I've done something… wrong. If I wasn't-"

"You were fine," she cuts. She desperately wants to leave this conversation.

"Then what's the problem?" His voice raises a notch. A few people turn around to look at them. Emma shoots them a glare.

"Look." She lowers her voice. "There isn't a problem."

"Then why have you been bloody avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you."

"I'm actually quite perceptive. And this? This is avoiding me."

"Killian." Her voice is soft. "Look, I just don't want… this to go any further. Okay?"

He watches her for a moment, eyes dark, lips pressed together. His jaw clenches. Eventually, he swallows. "Fine. Okay. I will respect your wishes. I will say no more, if that is what you choose."

"It's what I choose."

"I'll see you on set. Tomorrow. For our scene." Then he's gone, stalking out the room. People stare at him as he leaves. Foolishly, tears prickle in her eyes.

* * *

Emma doesn't see Killian again after that, something she's glad about. He has a scene with Gold and another one with Elsa, whereas Emma films with Robin. She hasn't seen Graham in a while and though she misses his company, she's glad she doesn't see him today. Maybe he'd be able to see the guilt written over her face. Maybe everyone can.

She's called into Belle's office later, for a top secret meeting. Well, top secret according to Belle. It's only to give her the final scripts.

"Only you and Killian have these, okay?" she tells her, slowly. "It's top secret. It has a character death."

"A _character_ death?"

"A major character death." Then her voice lowers. "Look, I know you wouldn't but… these cannot see the light of day, okay? It's not just the character death. It has some of the _biggest_ spoilers ever. Like I said, only you and Killian have them."

"You can trust me," says Emma.

She leaves the room feeling quite important. For a moment it's almost enough to distract her from Killian.

Almost.

* * *

"You _what?"_

Emma winces at Mary Margaret's tone. "Slept with Killian," she says, in a hushed whisper.

They're in the bug, on the way back. Emma's chosen to tell her now so she doesn't have to look at her face and see her expression.

"... Why?" she asks, not unkindly. She seems genuinely interested.

Emma shrugs. "I don't know. It's been a while. I was feeling good."

A long pause. Emma's hands tighten on the wheel. And then, "How was it?"

" _Mary Margaret."_ This time Emma takes her eyes off the road for a second to throw a glance in her friend's direction. She's smiling, biting her lip.

"What? I'm curious. And he is very…"

"It was good. I guess. Intense." Heat floods her cheeks.

" _Oh._ "

"Don't say _oh_ like that. What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say it was _good_ and he's _good_ and _sweet_ and you're going on a date with him."

"In what world would I _ever_ say that?"

"In a world where you're honest with yourself and admit you actually do like him."

Emma looks straight ahead, even though she can see Mary Margaret's eyes on her. She's practically bouncing in her seat, and she must be itching to ask more questions. Emma guesses another minute tops before she caves.

Three…

Two…

"Did he do the thing where-"

"Yes."

"Oh my _god._ Marry him."

Emma gives her another one of those disapproving looks. "Can we stop talking about it? I'm trying to-"

"Forget about him? But you can't, can you?"

She can practically _hear_ her friend's smirk. She hates it because she's right. She _can't_ forget about him. She's gone too far this time. She should have just kept her stupid, little crush to herself, but Emma Swan is a complete and utter idiot.

When she doesn't speak, Mary Margaret continues. "You _really_ like him, don't you? I can tell by your silence."

"You're kinda annoying me now."

They pull up in Mary Margaret's drive. Emma doesn't bother switching the engine off; she'll be gone soon. She waits for Mary Margaret to say bye, thank her for today and leave but she doesn't. Instead, she's watching her with those doe-like eyes. Emma's already sighing when she opens her mouth.

"Emma, I think if you don't talk to him, you're making a huge mistake."

"Mary-"

"No, let me speak, please." When Emma sighs in defeat, she continues. "I just want you to be happy. That's all I want. And I think… Killian would make you happy. If you let him in. But like I said, you've got those walls."

"And like _I_ said, there's nothing wrong with being cautious."

Her voice is soft, eyes gentle. "I think you've gone past cautious, don't you think?"

Emma's voice is equally as soft. "I can't- I can't do this now."

There's a silence. "Thank you. For today." She smiles. "I mean it, it was lovely. But… think on what I said. Promise me you will?"

"I…"

"Emma, promise me?"

Finally, Emma meets her gaze, so sure, so motherly. "Fine," she says, gently. "I promise."

"Good."

Mary Margaret reaches across to the driver's seat and gives Emma a hug, so tight she can smell her shampoo. Apples. Home.

"I'll see you soon."

And with one last fleeting smile, she's gone.

* * *

 **Aw man, Emma. What are you gonna do now?**


	25. Chapter 25

"Mom."

Emma groans, and buries her head in the pillow. She can hear the distant calling, but she tries to tune it out. She is _too_ sleepy. So sleepy. She was up all night thinking about Killian and his hands and his _voice_ and-

" _Mom._ You're gonna wanna get up now."

She pulls the covers over her head. Henry's voice is becoming more and more clear now as the haziness of sleep evaporates.

" _Mom!"_

Another groan escapes her as he pulls the covers back down. She glances at the clock. Eight thirty. She gives him an unimpressed expression. "It's not even ten yet, kid. Why are you awake?"

"The scripts have been leaked."

Maybe it's the haziness of sleep or maybe it's because she didn't expect it at all, but it takes a few seconds for his words to sink in. When they do, her heart is already hammering in her chest. "What do you mean? What scripts?"

"The _finale_ scripts, Mom." His eyes have an excited light. "You'll never guess what. Toby _dies._ "

" _What?"_ That makes her sit up. She pushes the covers away.

Toby dies? Graham's off the show? Just like that? She had no idea. She hasn't even read them yet. She hasn't had the _chance._ She only got them yesterday, for crying out loud!

"He's killed by the king! Can you believe it? I really really _really_ liked Toby."

"I can't believe someone leaked the scripts." She's shaking her head. "Who would _do_ that? Who would ruin this for people? How is it fair?"

"I don't know, Mom, but it was all over Tumblr."

The springs squeak as she jumps out of bed. She's going to need a coffee for this. _Leaked scripts?_ Of all the things she expected to go wrong, she hadn't expected this. The show's always been an environment where everyone trusts each other. Who would do this?

Emma reads through the scripts. The spoilers were right, Toby dies. He's supposed to be getting information for the king on Alexander and Rose. When the king finds out they're together, he kills Toby right there and then, simply in anger. Emma knows why - it's to show the king is ruthless and reckless and doesn't care about who he hurts. Much like Gold himself, actually.

Killing Toby is a bold move. He's become a fan favourite, as well as Graham with his kind smile and twinkling eyes.

"I can't believe it," says Henry when they sit at the table for breakfast. He slams his orange juice down, shoulders slumped, head hanging. He just looks depressed.

To be fair, she's upset herself. They may have had a rocky past week, but she doesn't want him to leave, not now. He was her first proper friend. She'll miss seeing him on set. The feeling leaves her with an emptiness.

The phone rings, shrill in the silence. With a sigh, Emma rises from her seat and walks over to the hook. Maybe it's Graham. She hopes it is. She won't be much of a comfort, but they can patch things up.

"Hello?" she asks.

"Emma Swan?" comes an Australian accent.

"Belle?" Emma blinks in surprise. She's never rung her before, not at home. "What can I do for you?"

Her voice is sad. "I'm going to have to ask you to come into work."

"Today? But it's my day off?" She knows this can happen sometimes, especially when there are scenes to finish off, or last minute scenes they want to add in. Thankfully, it hasn't happened yet.

"You don't have to come in for long. Just for an hour. Just for a meeting."

"A… meeting?" She frowns. She and Henry exchange confused expressions, and then it dawns on her. "Is this about the scripts?"

"Can you be here for one o'clock?"

Her eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. "Yeah, sure thing, but-"

"Okay, I'll see you then."

Emma's taken back by her abruptness. "Okay. See you then."

The line goes dead. Emma stands there for a moment, phone in hand, a frown on her face. She has a bad feeling about this. She's never been called in for a meeting before. They couldn't think she leaked the scripts, could they?

 _Could_ they?

 _Suck it up, Swan_ she says to herself. Then she takes in a deep breath, presses the phone back on the hook, and takes a long, hot shower to clear her head.

* * *

A few hours later she stands outside Belle's office, arms folded, foot tapping. She's scared and she doesn't exactly know why. She shouldn't feel guilty or worried because she's done nothing wrong, but Emma's intuition is going wild and she should always trust her intuition

It's raining - she watches it out the window as she waits. It _still_ clings to her curls, even though she's been inside for a good ten minutes.

After another five minutes of waiting she begins pacing, walking up and down the cramped corridor.

Eventually the door creaks open and Belle's head pops out. "C'mon in, Emma."

Feeling very much like she's taking the walk of shame, she follows her into the office. It's small and modest, but cosy with a desk and a bunch of papers. A clock hangs on the wall. On her desk there's a photo in a sparkly photo frame. Belle's in it, smiling next to… Gold? Are they a couple? Emma didn't realise they were together.

Belle sits down and gestures for Emma to do the same on the other side of the desk. She does so, feeling like Belle is the school principal and Emma is a naughty student.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the scripts were leaked," says Belle, clasping her hands in front of her. She doesn't beat around the bush.

"Henry told me. This morning. He woke me up with the news."

"This is… delicate." She's looking at her hands, avoiding Emma's face. That's not a good sign.

"What is it?"

"You and Killian are the only two people who were given scripts."

"And you think _I-"_

"I don't know what to think." Finally, she meets her eyes. "But I know that Killian didn't do that."

"Which leaves me." Her voice is flat.

"I-" Belle's shoulders slump. "I don't know what to believe. But if I look at it in terms of evidence-" She shakes her head. "It adds up."

"So what are you going to do, then?" Emma doesn't mean for her voice to sound so hard, but she's been in this position before, when Neal stole the watches and let her take the blame. "Condemn me because 'it adds up'? Not even hear me out? Just assume it was me?"

"I'm going to talk to the other producers. See what they say. This has never happened before."

Her words are clear. _This has never happened before._ But it does now, when Emma joins the cast. She has to admit, it looks bad, but Belle should know she would never do this. She has Henry to think about. This could wreck her whole acting career, especially if she's fired for leaking the scripts. No self respecting show or film could trust her, even if she tells them she didn't do it.

"Emma…" Belle's voice is softer now, as she looks right into her eyes. "If it was you, I need to know now. It'll look a lot better on your part if you admit it sooner rather than later, and I'll see if I can… sweet talk the producers. Keep you on the show. I don't want to lose you."

"I have nothing to admit."

Her eyes are pleading. "If you have a… a _reason_ of some sort, maybe we could-"

"I did _not_ leak the scripts," she spits out through gritted teeth.

Belle watches her for a long time, face white and sad. It's the type of sad that leaves an emptiness inside Emma. She doesn't need this, not with Graham and then Killian to deal with.

"Is that all?" Emma eventually asks, trying to keep her voice neutral this time. She fails.

"That's all."

"Do I bother coming back to work tomorrow?"

"I'll call you," she says, softly.

" _Fine._ "

Teeth gritted, hands clenched, Emma rises from her seat and leaves. She walks past the sets until she finds her bug. Eyes are on her the whole way, but she ignores them. Only when she's in her bug, does she feel like she can breathe properly.

She's so _angry_ that white spots are starting to form in front of her eyes. She has to take deep, calming breaths. Only when she stops shaking, does she pull out and onto the road.

She doesn't know where to go. She doesn't want to go home and face Henry's concerned eyes and expression. She's dreading telling him that she's facing losing her job. She doesn't want to go to Mary Margaret either, because she won't be able to handle David's disappointment.

Then she knows exactly who she wants to see.

Killian.

* * *

Shock doesn't cover the expression that crosses his face when he opens the door and finds her there, looking up at him with a slightly embarrassed expression.

"Swan?"

"I think I… owe you an apology," she says, looking down at his feet. God, she hates apologising. She hates being wrong - it's just _humiliating_ \- but she has, indeed, been wrong. Well, not entirely _wrong_ , but she hasn't dealt with this as nearly as well as she should have.

"You should come in."

She follows him inside, very aware of the silence that surrounds them and cushions her echoing steps. Last time she made her way into his house it was under very different circumstances. As much as she hates to admit it, she knew what she was getting herself into. She knew what was going to happen.

"Coffee?" he asks, as she follows him into the kitchen. "Tea? A cold drink?"

"I'll have a coffee."

He switches the kettle on, his back to her. She's unable to take her eyes off him as she sinks into one of the chairs at the table. She drops her bag down beside her. Usually Emma doesn't mind silences, but this is too much to bear. She drums her fingers lightly against the table.

Once he's made the drinks, he turns around and sets them on the table, sitting in the chair opposite her. Emma leans over and takes a look at the colour of his drink.

"Are you drinking that awful tea stuff again?"

"Yes," is all he says.

It sends them into silence again, where they both stare down at their drinks, burning holes into them. She watches the steam rise from the drink and float up into the air. They sit in silence for another five minutes before-

"I thought you didn't want this to go any further."

"I don't," she says too quickly. "I didn't. I- don't know. I guess I just needed someone to talk to."

"And everyone else was unavailable?" His tone is bitter.

She draws in a breath and meets his eyes. "It's you I wanted to talk to, actually."

"Why?"

 _Just say it, Emma_. She could so easily admit that she cares about him, that he has somehow found a way to imprint himself on her heart, where select few people have been, but she _can't_. She doesn't want to lose what they have, and they have something all right. Saying it would just make it real.

Her eyes are wide and pleading. _Please don't make me say it_ , they say. He sighs.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asks.

"Did you hear?"

"Hear… what?"

"The finale scripts have been leaked."

Shock flickers over his face. "Bloody- _what?_ "

"Henry told me this morning." She wraps her hands around her mug. It's warm and comforting. "He woke me up with the news. Now _everyone_ knows that Toby dies. Before Graham even knew, actually."

"Bloody hell," he blows out. He's shaking his head, staring off into the distance. "Do they know who did it?"

"No. But they-" This is a little harder to say. "They think it's me."

"You wouldn't," he says instantly, slamming his fist on the table.

"You believe me, then?" she asks, with a weak smile.

"Absolutely."

She takes a shaky sip from her drink. "I'm facing losing my job."

" _What?"_ His eyes are on her now, wide and furious. "No. I'll tell them it wasn't you."

"I don't think it's that-"

"We just need to find out who _actually_ did it. Then we can prove it wasn't you."

She watches him, his fury, and her heart softens. Killian has been nothing but kind to her since she arrived, and now he's willing to defend her corner, to fight for her. Guilt pangs in her chest.

"Killian, I-"

She what? There's a lump in her throat and it refuses to move.

"You don't have to say anything," he says.

He reaches across the table and places his hand over hers. She looks down at their hands and then back up into his eyes. So soft. So gentle.

 _I think I love you_.

The words have formed in her head before she has time to stop them.

The thought tightens her chest and makes it hard to breathe. This, by far, is the most dangerous thought of all. She didn't see this coming, not after their initial meeting. She sensed it after their kiss, and after she lay in his arms at night and refused to move.

She senses it now.

"I shouldn't have left. I'm sorry, I-"

"Don't worry about it, love," he says, softly.

"What?"

"I've been doing some thinking."

"You have?"

"Yes, and…" He takes a sip of his tea, maybe to buy him time to form the right words. "If you don't want… what we have… to go any further, it's okay."

Her brows furrow. "It is?"

"'Course. I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. It's not for me to decide whether you should be in a relationship or not, whether it's with me or another man." His eyes flicker up to hers. "I hope you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," she says, barely audible.

She doesn't _understand._ For weeks she had him pinned as an arrogant, manipulative womaniser and here he is, surprising her yet again. All he's done is surprise her.

"I miss you, Emma." His voice holds a twinge of sadness, as does his face.

"You don't have to anymore," she tells him because even after what they've done, 'I miss you too' sounds too intimate.

The smile he gives her makes her heart flutter, and suddenly it's all too much, but she doesn't want to run like she did before - she owes it to him to stay - and so she needs a breather.

"Do you mind if I use one of your bathrooms?"

"'Course not. I'd recommend the one on the first floor for the best bathroom experience."

She gives him a look as she rises from the table. "I've been in your bathrooms before, y'know." She's only just reached the doorway when she turns to throw him another look, this one softer. "Put the kettle on again. I'll stay for another hour or two."

His sigh is as soft as her expression. Relieved. "I'm glad to hear it."

She disappears through the door and up the stairs, holding onto the bannister as she pulls herself up. He's right, the one on the first floor _is_ the nicest, even nicer than that one she stayed in for FWC.

While she's there, she splashes her face with cold water, and dabs the droplets away with a soft towel he's left on the railing. It makes her feel more alert, more like herself. Killian believes her. He'll help her. If she's lucky, she won't lose her job. With one last deep breath, she leaves the bathroom.

She makes her way down the endless corridor, once again marveled at the sight of his house. Her eyes can't help but wander, to the pictures on the walls, into the different rooms.

She doesn't mean to notice them, but when she does she wishes she hadn't because that's when the cogs start to turn in her head and everything slowly becomes clearer.

The scripts.

They're in one of the bedrooms. The door is left swung open, and she catches sight of his bed in the full-length mirror. The scripts are fanned out on the silken sheets. That's when she realises.

Only two people were given the scripts, bar Belle. Herself and Killian. And if _she_ didn't leak the scripts…

No, no, he wouldn't. She tries to squash the thought. Killian is too kind, too _good_ for that. Too charming. With a habit of holding grudges and a past of revenge plans. He told her that himself.

No, _no._

Even Belle didn't suspect him. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind, meaning the only person she could _possibly_ blame is Emma. The only logical solution and Killian knows this.

She's certainly done enough to warrant such an attack, and especially since he's one to hold grudges…

 _No._

Then she remembers something he said in the dark booth in that bar just after the Teddy Norman show when they were admitting things to each other. _I was going to frame him. I'm good at things like that._ That's what he said. He was going to frame Gold and get him kicked off the show. How? By leaking the scripts?

It would make sense.

 _Ask him_ , she thinks. All she has to do is ask him. Then she can see if he's lying and put the whole thing to rest.

Drawing in a breath and all the courage she can muster, Emma makes her way down the stairs and back into the kitchen. There's a fresh coffee waiting for her. The sight makes her heart swell.

"Killian…"

He must pick up on her tone, because he frowns. "You alright, Swan?"

"Yes. No. Maybe." She has a bad feeling about this. "I just need to ask you something."

"Ask away."

"But _please_ don't take this the wrong way, okay?" She's avoiding his eyes.

He rises from his chair, voice concerned. "Emma?"

"I just need to know."

A pause that cuts like a knife. When Killian speaks again, his voice is soft. "Please don't ask me what I think you're going to ask me."

But she has to. She has to know. "Did you leak the scripts?" Her eyes move to his, which are dark and unreadable.

"I can't believe you're asking me this."

"Only two of us-" She takes a step towards him, but he steps back. It stings. "Only you and me were given those scripts. And I didn't leak them."

"And you think I did?" He raises his eyebrow, but not like he would when flirting or being teasing. His face doesn't hold any warmth. She's not entirely sure what it holds.

"I just need an answer. Just answer me so I know you're not lying." That's all she needs, an answer. And then she'll be able to tell.

His face darkens over, like a storm. "You shouldn't need to bloody ask," he all but shouts. She doesn't flinch.

"Just tell me. Did you or didn't you?" She hates how pleading her voice sounds. "I just need to know."

"I don't need to answer."

That's confession enough for her. He knows about her superpower. He's well aware that if he were to answer, she'd be able to tell whether he has something to hide. If he were telling the truth, he wouldn't need to hide. He could just answer no.

She feels like someone has just dipped her in icy water. It sends a chill right down to her bones.

" _Why?"_ she says, barely a whisper. And then: "Don't tell me." She's already pulling her jacket over her shoulders.

Betrayal. That's the only word going through her mind over and over again. Complete and utter betrayal. How could he do this to her?

She was right about him. She hadn't misjudged him. He's a manipulator and a liar and she should have seen it coming. It's like Neal and Walsh all over again. Everytime she gets close to a guy, they let her down, but _this_ is the last straw. Her walls are too high now. Good luck to anyone who tries to climb over them.

He doesn't call her back as she storms down his corridors, but she can feel something radiating off him. Anger at being caught? She doesn't care. She just knows she needs to get out of that house _now_ and put as much distance between herself and that liar as possible.

She goes straight home, tears in her eyes.

* * *

 **So a bit of a late update, but that thing called real life got in the way! First in the form of a chest infection and when I've been feeling better, I've been working on my original work. So now everything's all better, expect updates as normal! We're very near the end now - only a few more chapters left. I know things make seem bleak at the moment, but you know what they say: it's always darkest before the dawn. I'm sorry I've put you guys through so much angst! I didn't realise how much angst this fic has in it! Aw man. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter, all the same. Expect another update soon!**


	26. Chapter 26

Emma doesn't go into work for the next few days. It's not because she doesn't want to, but more like _they_ don't want her to, not while they decide her fate. Will they kick her off the show straight away, or will they find a way to write her off as quickly and as cleanly as possible? Perhaps they will do the impossible; give her the benefit of the doubt. Either way, she's not sure she can take the waiting. Her stomach is in knots.

The feeling is even worse when she sits Henry down to tell him why she hasn't been working.

"They think _you_ leaked the scripts?" He says, eyes wide and shocked. "Why?"

"I don't know," she sighs, though she knows exactly why. It's either her or Killian and they're not going to blame _him_. He's their favourite.

"But you _didn't_. It's so unfair!"

"I know, kid. I know."

Even though she doesn't want to, she breaks down and confesses to Mary Margaret, after stopping by her house later that day. She tells her that it _could_ possibly be Killian, since he was the only other one with the script.

"He wouldn't answer my question," she tells her over coffee. "He knows about my superpower."

Mary Margaret frowns, and doesn't speak. Emma can guess her internal struggle. She _likes_ Killian but she knows Emma hasn't leaked the script. She trusts her friend more than a man she's met a few times.

When they tell David, he's livid. He wants to ring the show and 'give them a piece of his mind', but Emma stops him. They don't need even more of a reason to fire her and right now, the situation is looking bleak.

A week passes. It's torturous. She doesn't hear from Killian or Graham, but she has a few missed calls from Elsa. Deliberately missed, that is. As nice as Elsa is, Emma doesn't want to have to explain herself. Even if she did, there's a chance Elsa wouldn't believe her anyway.

Finally, she's called onto set, though not to film. She's asked to go to Belle's office, which she does, feeling very much like she's on a death march. She feels sick to the stomach.

The room is freezing, thanks to the air con. It does nothing to help that sick feeling. It just makes her feel as cold as her insides.

Belle, Gold and a few other producers sit in there. So does Grumpy, unsmiling. They all watch her with sombre expressions and it's _horrible_.

She stands in silence, hands clasped in front of her. She wishes the ground would just open up and swallow her whole. At the same time, she wants to punch something because it's all so _unfair_. She didn't leak the scripts - she has nothing to gain from doing so. And now her fate is in their hands.

"I really don't know what we're supposed to do here," says Belle. She sounds sad. She looks sad. Emma swallows.

"I know what you're all thinking. I know how bad it looks. But I _didn't_ do it," says Emma through gritted teeth.

"It _does_ look bad. And I don't know what to believe. I just-" she pauses, forehead puckering as she frowns. Emma assumes she's looking for the right words, so it surprises her when Belle says, "Did you hear that? It sounded like shouting."

Silence. Nothing. Belle shakes her head.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I don't know what I'm going to do here, Emma. I think -" She pauses again. This time, Emma hears it. It definitely sounds like shouting. "What _is_ that?"

The door flies open. In runs Killian, breathless and wide-eyed. He looks a little wild.

"Killian!" says Belle.

Mulan comes running in after him, also breathless. She shoots a glare straight at Killian. "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him. I told him he wasn't allowed in. I escorted him away, but he ran back. I'll take him away now." She reaches for his arm, but he shakes her off.

"Emma didn't leak the scripts," he says before anyone else can say anything.

"I don't see how you could _possibly_ know-"

"I do know." He grits his teeth, glaring at the floor. "Because I bloody leaked them."

Emma is shocked, to say the least. She watches Killian, unable to believe it. He's admitting to it? Why? Why would he do that?

"Thank you, Mulan. You may go." Belle rushes to get out her words.

Mulan bows her head once and swiftly exits, door closing softly behind her. She leaves a deadly silence in her place. Emma watches Killian from the corner of her eye, but he doesn't spare a glance in her direction.

"You… did this?" Emma can tell Belle is aghast. She's hearing the words, but she's not believing them. "Why?"

"Because…" he swallows. His hands clench into fists at his side. "I was angry."

"Angry? Why? About what?"

Killian's eyes flicker to the other people in the room. "Perhaps we could do this in a more private setting? The issue is… delicate."

"I don't believe you're in a position to make arrangements," comes another voice. Gold's. "If you wish to salvage what remains of your job, you will speak here and now, regardless of how delicate the situation is." He's oddly smug, like he's fighting to keep a smile off his face.

"I agree," says Belle. "This is a decision that all of us will make. So we all need to hear what you've got to say."

Killian closes his eyes, very briefly, and opens them again. He exhales. "I was angry because of Emma."

"And why is that?" Gold presses.

Killian speaks as if every word is causing him pain. "Because she hasn't returned my feelings."

"Your feelings?" This time Gold _does_ smile. Emma wants to wipe it off his face.

"Yes."

"What feelings might those be?"

"You bloody well know."

"Killian…" Belle sighs. "You've been on this show six years. You can't expect us to believe that _this_ is responsible for a breach in loyalty. I can't believe it."

"Oh, I concur," says Gold. "Perhaps if you had further… proof of this…"

"I do," He clenches his jaw. "Not exactly proof, but it runs deeper than that."

"Well, go on."

"I don't bloody feel comfortable discussing it."

There's a long silence, where it's like all the air is sucked from the room. They're waiting, patiently, for Killian to give them something, _anything_ to work with. Emma doesn't speak, she daren't, even when a full minute passes as Killian glares at the floor. Then, eventually:

"I kissed Emma."

She gives him a 'really' look, but he just stares back. That's _private_ information. But Killian could have told them they slept together. He seems to be giving the bare minimum information.

"We know," says Gold. "We've seen it." His face twists, and Emma resists the urge to punch it. What's he playing at? He wants to draw this out as much as possible, and make them both suffer.

"I mean _not_ on the show." His jaw clenches.

Belle lets out a small "Oh," of surprise. And then: "I don't think that's any of our bus-"

"It is if it's reasoning as to why Killian leaked the scripts," says Gold. "Go on… Killian."

"The point is, I leaked the scripts," Killian says.

He's lying.

A shock runs through her. He's lying. He's not telling the truth. She was wrong the whole time. Her heart softens, filling with shame and guilt and all these feelings she does her best to push away. She wants to reach out a hand to him, but she can't. Her hands remain stuck to her side.

"I still don't understand _why_ ," says Belle. She sounds exasperated. Her head is in her hands.

"Because I was hurt. Bloody hell. I was _hurt._ "

"It still doesn't sound like something you'd-"

"Oh, I beg to differ, Belle," says Gold. "It sounds exactly like something he'd do. Mr. Jones has had a past of acting irrationally. Or have you forgotten what I told you when you casted him as Alexander?" Though he speaks to Belle, his eyes, cold like stone, are on Killian.

"I…"

"Have you?" He turns to Belle. She doesn't speak. "He's not above having an affair with a married woman. Why would he be above leaking a few scripts as revenge for unrequited affections? We all know he detests it when he doesn't get his own way."

Belle's torn face moves from Killian to Gold to Emma. A war seems to be going on in her head. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft. Disappointed. "You may go, Emma. I think we need a word with Killian alone."

Her gaze falls to Killian. He's staring straight ahead, eyes cold and unseeing. His hands are clenched so tight, they're white. Emma longs to reach out a hand, to place it on his locked fist until it softens and his fingers intertwine with hers. But she can't. She's too confused and her mind is running a million miles an hour. So she leaves and puts as much distance between her and the other room as possible. She ends up with her back against the wall, eyes closed as she tries to work through things.

He lied. Why did he lie? Now he faces losing his job, to Gold's delight.

Gold.

All she has to do is think his name, and then everything falls into place.

Now, Emma has never been slow but she hasn't figured this one out as quickly as she would have liked. She usually has a good idea of people, but her feelings for Killian have blinded her. It's only now that she's starting to realise. She needs to look past _her_ feelings for Killian to see his own feelings for her.

So she does.

And it makes her realise something that she's known all along. Something that she didn't want to admit because it's simply not _logical._ Or it hasn't been. Now it's starting to make a little more sense.

Killian would _never_ hurt her. Not in the way she believed he had. He didn't leak the scripts. He lied for her to _protect_ her, for goodness sake.

And if he didn't, and she didn't, there is only one person who could have. One person who's had access to Belle's property this entire time, someone who would use whatever he can to put others at a disadvantage. To succeed.

 _Gold._

Gold leaked the scripts. And he was going to pay.

The door swings open, and Emma's head snaps over to Killian, who storms out the door. His face is like thunder, pale and angry, lips pressed together in a tight line.

Emma takes a step forward.

"Killian, I-"

"Don't bother," he says, holding up a hand to silence her.

He leaves her with one thought.

 _What have I done?_


	27. Chapter 27

Emma's feet hardly touch the floor before she's stalking over to Rumple. He's stood on set, in full costume, watching people around him with a smug smile. Camera people surround him. Grumpy and Belle are nattering next to him, but that doesn't put Emma off.

"Ah, Miss Swan." She only just catches that smarmy expression before his eyes widen in alarm. "What are you-"

She grabs him by the collar of his shirt and slams him into the nearest wall, arm pressed into his neck, almost but not quite cutting off his airways. She can tell by his expression that he hadn't been expecting it. He'd underestimated her, just like she underestimated him.

There's a shocked chorus of-

"Emma!"

"Emma?"

"What are you doing?"

"Emma, stop!"

But she ignores it, focusing on Gold's face. She knows she has about five seconds before they pull her off and sanction her, so she has to act fast and get to the truth as quickly as possible. This is her only chance to clear Killian's name.

"You leaked the scripts, didn't you?" She shouts in his face, so everyone else can hear. They'll want to hear this. When he doesn't answer, she yells, "DIDN'T YOU?"

"I don't know what you're-"

She pushes her arm upwards until he's choking for breath. He doesn't look so intimidating now, all sniveling and gasping for air. His eyes are small and watery, like a rat's. That's exactly what this man is. A rat.

This time Emma speaks in a low voice. "Listen, buddy. I _know_ you're lying. How can I know that, huh? I have proof. So either you admit it now-" He struggles to get out her grasp, but she pushes her arm against his throat again. "- or I expose you to _everyone_ , including the _media_ , and it's going to be a whole lot worse for you."

The look he gives her is dark and chilling, promising revenge, but Emma stays where she is. She can feel everyone's eyes on her, and she resists the urge to hold her breath. He _has_ to admit it. _He has to._

After what feels like forever, he eventually speaks.

"Fine."

She holds back her sigh of relief. " _Louder._ " She eases up on his airways.

"I leaked the scripts. _Fine._ I leaked them."

A gasp comes from behind her and Emma knows it's over. All adrenaline streams out her body and she drops her arm, taking a step back from the wall. Gold falls, knees wobbling. He has to hold onto the wall to steady himself. _Definitely a rat._

"Is this true?" comes Belle's voice. It's soft and broken, matching her expression. All colour drains from her face as she watches him.

He doesn't break her eye contact as he says, "I had no choice."

Belle's face hardens, as well as her voice. "There is _always_ a choice. You've gone too far this time. See me in my office."

She turns on her heel and stalks off.

"What are you all looking at?" Gold sneers. He follows after her, calling her name like a wounded puppy.

Emma can't help it. She smiles.

…

Grumpy does his best to keep everyone calm, even though everyone can hear Belle's shouting from all across set. Filming resumes as normal, while the fate of Gold is decided. After a quick lunch, Emma goes to makeup. Everyone cheers her when she walks in, to her complete and utter surprise. As it turns out, everyone hates Gold too. She half expects them to crack open the champagne.

"He's had it coming, that one," says Will.

"Tell me about it," comments Ariel as she curls Emma's hair. "I'm not surprised he leaked the scripts. I knew you and Killian would never do it."

Killian.

The name is like a weight in her stomach. He's filming today but she hasn't seen him. Maybe he's keeping out of her way. They don't have any scenes together, which means they don't have any time to talk. She remains quiet for the rest of her time in makeup.

* * *

Thoughts on Killian, Emma leaves makeup in a daze. She's only just steps out the door when-

"Emma, hey."

Emma turns at the voice, so familiar and comforting. Graham is stood, one hand behind his back, scratching his cheek a little sheepishly. He offers her a smile. It's one of those warm ones that crinkles his eyes and lights up his whole face. She hasn't seen it in so long, tears form in her eyes. She blinks them away.

"Hey."

She mustn't blink them away as fast as she hopes to because his face falls. "What's wrong?"

"You're smiling at me." It sounds so silly, she has to laugh. She's come a long way if something as simple as a smile is making her tear up.

"Emma…" He swallows. The unmistakable show of guilt. "I'm sorry."

She speaks quickly. "You don't have anything to-"

"Yes I do. I've acted appallingly. You have no idea how ashamed I am." He's telling the truth. She doesn't know what to say so she looks down at her hands.

"I hurt you."

Dropping his voice a notch, he takes a step forward. "I think I hurt myself more with my behaviour. And by doing that I've hurt you, something I never wanted to do."

"Graham-"

He holds up a hand. "Hear me out, just for a second."

She nods.

"I don't want to lose you or your friendship. Though if I did it would be less than I deserve." He frowns, eyes soft with sadness. "You look like you've needed a friend these past few weeks. I wasn't there for you."

There's a pause. Graham takes another step towards her, moving his hand from behind his back, revealing a small but colourful bouquet of flowers. "These are for you."

Emma's eyes widen a touch. "Graham, I…" She shakes her head, voice thick. "I can't accept these."

"Take them. Please." He pushes them into her hands, and she has to grab them just to stop them from dropping to the floor. "They're an apology. I'm sorry for being such an arse."

Emma looks down at the flowers in her hands. They're surely beautiful; colours of red and orange and white. She brings them up to her nose. The perfume coming from them smells perfect, reminding her of summer blue skies and the fields she used to lay in with Neal as they talked for hours about their future. For once, the memory doesn't leave her with an emptiness or a pang of sadness. As stupid as it sounds, she feels like she's on the cusp of something special. Something that will wipe away all pain. It's an odd feeling.

When she looks back up at Graham again, she feels a spark of guilt. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

"I shouldn't have kissed _you_." Then his voice softens. "Especially when I could tell you had… feelings for another."

She doesn't answer that, but a slight sigh escapes her.

Killian. As much as she tries to escape him, she knows she can't. Even when she isn't with him, it's like she can feel him with her like a ghost. He certainly feels like some kind of phantom now. He seems so close, but so out of reach. She may have lost him forever.

She looks down at her flowers to avoid Graham's eyes, but he's studying her face with concerned eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Graham doesn't miss a trick.

She shakes her head, eyes fixed on the flowers. "It doesn't matter."

"It does. What is it?"

She shakes her head again.

"Emma, I've been a bastard these past few weeks. Allow me to make it up to you. What's up?"

"There's nothing you can do to help." It's true. This is her mistake and only she can fix it, but it may be unfixable. She's gone too far. He believed her when no-one else did, but she was so quick to question him. It's like she was looking for something to be wrong with him, so she had an excuse to get as far away from him as possible. Now, when she feels the distance, she just wants to be close to him.

"Then let me be an ear."

"He hates me," she tells him before she can stop herself. The words sounds good out loud. Her chest is a little less tight.

"He could never hate you. He's in love with you."

His words shock her. Her eyes flash up to his. " _Excuse me_?"

Graham shrugs. "It's obvious. Anyone with eyes can see it. Ask him. I doubt he'd lie to you."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm trying to make amends. And-" His voice drops. There's still a twinge of sadness in his eyes. "I think you're in love with him too."

She immediately feels that familiar pang of guilt. "Graham, I-"

"Don't. Don't feel sorry for me. This isn't about me." His lips twitch in a tiny smile. "Plus, I have a date."

"A _date?"_

"Yup. Saturday at seven. Her name's Ruby."

"Huh." Emma raises her eyebrows. "Yknow, I know a Ruby. Actually I don't _know_ know her. David's her agent. She's currently working on a -"

"- Soap opera," Graham finishes for her. His face breaks out onto a grin. " _No_. Ruby Lucas?"

"That's the one!" says Emma with a laugh. "Small world."

"Tell me about it."

They fall into that comfortable silence and Emma has never missed a silence so much. She's missed everything about their friendship: the easy way they fall into conversation, the things they laugh about, how they watch the episodes together.

"Tell him."

"What?"

"Tell him you love him."

Her eyes fly down to the flowers again. Her cheeks flood with colour. "I don't- I just- I-"

"Sure." He bites his lip, shaking his head, There's something teasing about his expression. "But you have to tell him _something_."

"He won't even talk to me."

"Then _make_ him talk. Listen, I have to go and get makeup done. I'll see you soon, okay Emma? I know you'll do the right thing." He gives her one more gentle smile and off he goes, into makeup.

* * *

Through her scenes Emma doesn't see Killian, though she keeps a lookout. She can't find him anywhere; not around set, not in costume, not in the cafeteria. It's like he's disappeared off the face of the Earth. But only to her, since Elsa mentioned seeing him earlier.

The day goes too quickly and before she knows it, she's ushered back into costume to change into her normal clothes as the day comes to an end.

On her way across the set she runs into someone she'd rather not see. Gold. He's outside Belle's office, but the door is shut. His ear is pressed to the door, so she must be in there, probably discussing what they're going to do with him.

Emma knows she should probably just walk away and leave him to his misery but she can't help herself. "Y'know, it's bad to eavesdrop."

He turns to her, face lined with hatred. "What do you want?"

She has to pause for a moment. What does she want? She's not entirely sure. She has justice for Killian, though that might be too late - she didn't believe him when it counted. So she asks the only thing she can ask, though it's up for debate whether she'll get a decent answer.

"Why?"

He straightens up, leaning against his cane. "Why, Miss Swan, isn't it obvious?"

"You wanted him to lose his job," she says flatly. "Well it didn't work. He didn't lose his job. You lose."

"Oh I wouldn't say that." He's wearing that smug smile again. After everything, how could he be smiling? "His job isn't the only thing that mattered to him. It can't hold a torch to you."

Oh. _Oh._ Suddenly, it all makes sense.

"And now he's lost the woman he loves. How sad."

"Don't bet on it," she says, wiping that stupid smirk from his face.

* * *

This time she doesn't rest until she finds him. She searches the set for an hour, and only just catches him on his way out to the parking lot, a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Killian!" she calls.

He ignores her and keeps walking, bag swaying side to side. There's nothing for it; she has to run. So she does, pushing past actors and camera men until she reaches him.

"Killian," she says, clutching a stitch in her side. He doesn't stop. "Killian, God's sake. Slow down." He still doesn't turn and she follows him, calling after him, holding her stich. "It was Gold."

That doesn't even make him flinch and he keeps walking, getting further and further away from her. She can't keep going and she has to stop, taking in deep breaths. It's a mercy on her calves, but not really on her heart.

"I'm sorry," is the last thing she calls.

Finally, he stops. Terror and excitement keep her rooted to the spot. He's actually stopped. Her breath catches in her throat when he turns and makes his way back to her. His eyes are trained on her, face impassive. She feels like she hasn't seen that smile in weeks, though it's only been a few days.

"What now?" he says as he comes to a stop in front of her. Those blue eyes are trained on her face.

"I'm sorry," she says again. That's what he needed to hear. Is she really so stubborn that she hasn't apologised yet? She doesn't like apologising, but she pours her heart into her next words. "I'm so sorry, Killian. I should have believed you. I should have trusted you. I'm sorry."

He regards her with narrowed eyes. She sees them soften, so slightly, and it makes her heart flutter a little. "It was Gold?"

"Yes."

"Aye. Why am I not surprised?"

"He wanted you fired," she says. She doesn't want to say the other reason. It's too embarrassing to say out loud.

"What's going to happen to him now?"

"I don't know."

"Bloody Gold." He blows out a puff of air.

Tentatively she takes a step towards him. He doesn't move away from her, which she takes as a good sign. "I'm sorry. For everything."

He doesn't say anything, watching her. It takes her a while to realise he wants her to continue.

"I've never been good with words," she says. Though she tries to meet his eyes, her gaze keeps falling to the floor. "Or feelings. Or… things like this. I've had two proper relationships and they both burned me." He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off. "They're all excuses, I know, but you don't need excuses. You need promises. Turns out, I'm not very good at promises either."

She sneaks a peek at him. His eyebrows are knitted together, but he's listening. Finally, he's listening.

"I don't even know what I'm trying to say." She laughs at the stupidness of the situation. Then she sobers. "I just don't want to lose you."

"You haven't." The words are so soft, she's unsure she's heard them right, but one look at his face tells her she has.

"I haven't?" she asks, as equally softly.

He shakes his head, and closes the distance between them. "I don't want to lose you either."

"How could you?" A crease appears in her forehead. "After what you did. You told them you leaked the scripts when you hadn't. Why? To protect me? I don't understand."

"Well, I-" He scratches his chin, embarrassed, and averts his gaze to the floor. "I knew you needed it more than me. The job. And future jobs. You needed it for your boy. You needed a future; a career."

"You sacrificed your career for me?" Her voice is soft. She tilts her head. Suddenly, it all makes sense. He would have given it all up to save her. For her. No-one's ever done anything like that for her before.

He meets her eyes. "That's what you do when you love someone."

All she does is kiss him. It's the only thing she can do, the only way she can tell him how she feels. His hand comes up to rest near her jaw, just over her hair. There's something very tender and loving about that and tears almost come to her eyes.

Graham was right. Gold was right. Elsa was right. He loves her and she feels-

She feels-

Another feeling altogether. Home.

* * *

 **Hey, guys, finally another chapter! I'm sorry this took so long. I received a few messages telling me to update. I'm glad you're enjoying the fic but I have a life too, y'know. I'll try to be quicker with the next one! It will be the last one, btw.**

 **... Or will it?**

 **No, it will.**


	28. Epilogue

_ROMANCE RUMORS CONFIRMED_

 _We have long suspected a possible romance between Kings and Queens stars Emma Swan and Killian Jones. Between the sizzling chemistry on screen and the sightings in real life, we could only assume a love affair has been going on in the months they've worked together. Now it seems our suspicions are confirmed. Emma Swan was spotted again leaving her co-star's house. Only this time, she left with a kiss (see below). Now we know they can't possibly deny the rumours. The only question is, how long will it last? We've pulled together the biggest celebrity breakups of the past few years. Take a look!_

Emma snorts and places the magazine on the bedside table, almost knocking over her lamp in the process. She's too frustrated to notice. Don't the media have something better to do than stalk celebrities and shove their lives in front of everyone? Emma wouldn't care, except what they write affects not only her, but Henry as well.

"I think we'll last longer than Harry Styles and Taylor Swift, love," comes Killian's voice from beside her.

"What?"

"Harry Styles and Taylor Swift. They were at the top of the list." He chuckles at her dumbfounded expression. "You didn't read it?"

She shoots him a smile and a raised eyebrow. "You did?"

"I'm partial to celebrity gossip from time to time. You know, when it doesn't include me."

She nods, still smiling. It's amazing. She hasn't felt this happy in _years._ Suddenly Killian comes along and it's like she's walking through fields of flowers and dancing to songs no-one else can hear. It wasn't like this with Neal, and she doesn't think it'll be like this with anyone else ever.

"So…" she begins, suddenly very interested in her fingers. "How long do you think we'll last?"

" _I think…_ " He pauses. She chances a glance over at him. He grins at her. "I'm not going to think about it. Hopefully, a long time. But if not… I'll be grateful for the time I've had with you. And then I'll move on to Angelina Jolie or someone who is equally delicious."

"Ha!" She aims a cushion at his head.

"Oi!" But he's laughing, his shoulders shaking.

She aims another blow but it falls short of the target, rolling across the bed. He pulls her down into the mattress so she's lying on her back. He props himself up on his elbow, gazing down at her.

"You know…" he says, trailing his fingertips down her neck. She shivers under his touch. "I actually met Angelina Jolie once."

"You did?" Her voice comes out as a strange mix of jealousy and awe.

"Mm." He catches a lock of her hair between his fingers. "She wasn't as beautiful as you, though."

She rolls her eyes. "Were you this charming to her?"

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

He pauses, a smile playing on his lips. "No, I wasn't this charming to her. And I didn't do this to her." He leans down and kisses her on the lips softly.

She kisses him back, unable to stop her own smile. Why did she wait so long to be so open with him? She was missing out on so much, especially his kisses. These lazy morning kisses that make her feel a happy warmth throughout her whole body. Of course, that is until his kisses turn more heated and she feels another type of warmth altogether.

He pulls her further down the bed, so her head is half on the pillow and half off. It would be uncomfortable if she wasn't so distracted by his kisses, which dip down to her neck. His stubble brushes against her skin, prickly but not unpleasant. Never unpleasant.

And soon she's whispering incoherent murmurs into the pillow and curling her fingers in his hair and everything is a sweet whirl of-

"Hey, Mom have you seen my - OH MY GOD, NO."

They didn't even hear the door open.

But Henry stands in the door frame, mouth hanging open, pale with eyes blown wide. He doesn't move but instead seems frozen to the spot. He wrinkles his nose, as if slightly disgusted.

"Henry!" Emma exclaims, feeling the heat in her face. She tries to keep her voice light as she says, "Why don't you knock, kid?"

Henry doesn't answer her but turns on his heel and stalks out the room, shouting, "I see enough of that on the SHOW. God Mom."

Emma groans and falls back onto her pillow. Killian flops down beside her, neck red from embarrassment. They exchange glances, but Emma knows instantly that this is the smallest of bumps there could possibly be. After everything that happened with Gold, this is nothing. She'll just have to sit Henry down and explain the situation. Unfortunately, he's old enough to know exactly what they were doing.

So they might as well get back to it.

…

The doorbell rings. Emma, who's busy making pancakes, gestures for Killian to come over. He does so and takes the pan from her when she moves out the way. She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before she runs off to the door.

Henry beats her to it. And Emma's glad he does.

Elsa stands at the door, holding three plastic boxes of strawberries. They're bright red, like little hearts. She's dressed casually in jeans, her hair pulled back in a braid.

"I hope I'm not late to the party. But I brought strawberries." She holds up the boxes.

Henry doesn't speak. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. No words, not even any sounds. Like this morning, he's frozen on the spot, though Emma suspects for a very different reason.

"You're the first one to arrive," Emma says, unable to stop her smile. "Henry, why don't you step back to let Elsa in?"

Henry gives a start and quickly rushes out of the way. He's almost as red as the strawberries and he can't keep his eyes off Elsa. He tries, but they keep darting back to her.

"It's nice to meet you Henry," she says, flashing him a bright smile.

He looks like he's on the verge of fainting, but to Emma's utter relief, he speaks.

"I love you," he rushes out. Then, when realising what he's said, his eyes widen. "I-I mean I love your character. Your show. I don't love _you_. That- that would be silly, I-I mean…"

"I hear you," she says, with a knowing smile. "Thanks, Henry."

She kisses his cheek and moves on to the kitchen. As soon as she's gone, Henry visibly deflates, his hand moving up to gently touch the spot where she kissed. When he catches Emma watching him, he blushes again and stalks into the kitchen, deliberately not looking at her. That's when she realises she can't stop smiling today.

* * *

Everyone turns up not long after. First Graham. He walks into her house, smiling sheepishly, hand in hand with Ruby. He greets Killian like an old friend. Though Emma's never met Ruby and has often been jealous of her success, they hit it off straight away. She's funny, beautiful and very easy to talk to. A perfect match for Graham.

Next come Mary Margaret and David. They carry their new baby, Hope. She's so beautiful, even more beautiful than she looked in the hospital. Now she wears a soft pink hat which matches her pink button nose. David glows with pride. Mary Margaret looks positively radiant.

They all eat pancakes, topped with the strawberries Elsa brought and the cream Emma and Henry whipped up that morning. Mary Margaret makes her signature hot chocolate with cinnamon.

Emma glances around the room, at her friends, at her son, at the man she loves, and feels nothing but happiness. She'll have to tell Killian she loves him soon. She hasn't said it in so many words, but she's implied it in so many ways, more than he knows. _How can I not love him,_ she thinks as she watches him, laughing and joking with everyone there.

Will they last?

Most definitely.

* * *

 **I cannot believe we're finally at the end of this! It's been a long haul, but I loved every second of it. Thank you to everyone who liked/ favourited this. Thank you for all your comments and all your support, you have no idea how much it's meant to me! I do actually have a sequel all planned and plotted, if anyone would be up for it? I just realise that there's a LOT more I could have done with it, and a lot more I'd like to do. So let me know if you're interested, or if you think it would be better if it stayed where it is.**

 **But, yes, thank you guys so much! It has been so much fun.**


	29. End Note

End Note

* * *

Just a quick note to let you know the sequel to Kings and Queens is up and running! Thank you to all those people to said they'd like a sequel. You can find it either on my Tumblr (artandteaandstuff) or here, on . It's called Princes and Princesses. Here's a brief summary:

Emma is finally getting used to life in the spotlight, thanks to hit TV show Kings and Queens. She has many people to help her along the way; her son, her friends and her boyfriend, Killian Jones. But changes are going to have to be made on Kings and Queens, and the world she's getting used to is about to turn upside down, leaving her questioning if she ever really understood it at all.

I hope to see you there!


End file.
